The Rose and the Eagle
by wildwolf007
Summary: She lost everything: her family, her heritage, her memories. While suffering from complete amnesia, Ismíra meets Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, the man who is going to change her life... Or will he? As they discover the dark truth behind Ismíra's origins, the two of them will have to reconsider what they believe in and turn towards the truth, no matter what it takes.
1. Every Beginning Is An End

**Chapter One  
Every beginning is an end…**

 _"I don't even remember my past, I don't remember who I used to be. I don't  
remember my friends of old, I don't remember my destiny…"_

I shook my head, trying to escape from the terribly loud and high-pitched screech sounding in my mind. I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, not able to run away from it. It hurt - in a way more mental than physical, but still a lot harder than anything I had ever experienced.

And then, it was gone. Everything

I was alone.

I opened my eyes, waking up with a start. I looked around to find that I was laying in a corner of a dark alley. I couldn't understand how I got there, as I didn't remember doing anything like that. Then, I noticed that I couldn't remember anything at all. Every single time I tried to recall anything from my life, I found white void. There was _nothing_.

Having no memory didn't mean having no knowledge, and that was even stranger. For one, I knew that the city I was in was Jerusalem. Yet I had no idea how I got there or if I actually lived there or not.

And the worst thing was that disorientation. Having no idea what to make of myself was just outward disturbing. I had no idea what my name was! How could I forget my own name? What would I do without it? I had to call myself something, at the very least. _My name!_ What could possibly have happened to make me forget it? Along with everything else, for that matter?

Whoa.

I had to calm myself down. First things first. What do you do when you have amnesia? The thing is, I had no idea. Maybe I should concentrate on what I really remembered. I tried, but with little result. All I could recall were some childhood memories, and even they were blurred. I must've been eight or seven... I remembered my family... Or at least I thought I did. I had a father... and a brother... Or maybe it was a sister? A sibling nevertheless.  
I couldn't remember my home that good, though. It was in a city like this... Only smaller, yes.

I couldn't get anything else because every time I tried, my head exploded with headache. It was like stabbing my mind every time I looked into the past. I winced unwillingly at the comparison - why would _that_ be the first thing I thought about?

As I stood up, I put the weight of my body on the right arm, a split-second later deciding that was a mistake, as I was highly uncomfortable with the pressure of something stiff on my forearm. I couldn't resist my curiosity and took a look at the thing. For the first look, it appeared it was a leather bracer, but after further inspection, I realized that it had to be some kind of a weapon, as it consisted of a spring mechanism that apparently extended a blade in some circumstances (but I couldn't get how, as I looked at it from every possible angle and didn't find any trigger). I felt strange with it strapped to my arm, like I wasn't used to that, but decided to shake off the feeling and take some real action.

Going out of the alley I woke up in, I entered the main street.

As I strode through the streets of the city, I realized that somehow, I knew exactly where I was going. I will not get into the details of just how uncomfortable the feeling of having a destination and not knowing what it is was, but you can probably guess. _Where am I going?_ I asked myself, and immediately answered: I had to meet with someone. But who was it? And, more important, why should I find him? Him, I thought, because I knew that it was a guy. And that his name was Altaïr. I felt a little sad for knowing the name of some random guy (well, perhaps not random, but still) while not knowing my own, but the feeling disappeared after a minute. I was actually getting somewhere, at least.

My new objective officially became 'find that Altaïr guy, check out what he has to do with my amnesia and then find a way to retrieve my memories'. It did sound like a plan.

Slowly, my hearing returned when I ventured further into the city. It was loud. It seemed like every single person had something important to tell the world. And the first thing that I could make out of that rummage was someone shouting.

"Stop him! He's an Assassin!" I perked up at that remark. Assassin. That word... I could _remember..._

 _I could remember the anxiety, the strange feeling that something was off. Then, white. Blur. Something shined. A blade. Then, pain. And darkness._

The memory was gone as fast as it came, leaving me alone once again.

I was probably going to regret it, but I looked around for the presumed Assassin. As ridiculous as it may sound, I had a feeling that an Assassin would help me out. Of course, it was possible that he would kill me before, but I threw that thought away.

 _Assassin, Assassin_... I kept on repeating the word like it was going to help me create a mental image of an ordinary Assassin, wondering how one would look like.

The answer hit me like a concrete wall when something white and blurry ran right into me, bringing us both to the ground. I shook my head, trying to remember how to stand up. I mighty failed, falling back on the ground./p  
Then I realized what just happened and shot up in a second, only to be roughly grabbed by my hand and dragged along with someone - the same person who bumped into me earlier, I noticed.

"Wait!" I almost screamed, having a hard time keeping up. "Who are you? What're you doing?"

"The name's Radshi. I'm trying to help you here, so _please_ just shut up," he said, panting heavily. His stamina was clearly not as high as mine. I wanted to take a better look at him, but the white hood of his robe blocked my sight. That was when I took a better look at what I was wearing. It wasn't really that much of a surprise when I found myself in a white, hooded robe, sharing a design similar with the one Radshi wore, though with some differences. Maybe it was just the female design, though.

After a while of running (I barely began to get tired, but Radshi apparently was totally taken by fatigue) we turned into some small alley and he forcefully sat me on a bench and hissed "Keep your head down."

I obeyed without hesitation - there was an urgency in his voice that assured me that it was important.

The guards ran by just like we weren't there at all.

"Okay, who are you?" I asked, once they were out of sight. "Why were they chasing you?" Then, when something came to my mind, I added "You _are_ an Assassin, aren't you?"

He looked at me dumbly, not saying anything for a while.

"You are... a girl." He finally choked out.

I could almost feel my face flush with anger.

"So what?!" I snapped, maybe a little too fast.

"No, nothing," he quickly replied, "It's just... it's, you know, _rare_."

"No, I don't." I said truthfully. At that point, I didn't know anything at all. "Will you kindly answer my questions? Why did those guys chase you?"

He shrugged.

"Heck if I know. You probably know how it works: you don't do anything wrong and those guards pick at you nonetheless."

"Yeah, right..." I said slowly. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Look, do you need help?" He asked, sounding concerned. I definitely needed help, but the real question was whether I should accept Radshi's or not. "You seem lost. I could take you to the bureau if you don't know which way it is." He offered.

"You would?" I asked. He didn't seem like he meant me any harm. No, if anything, he was just naïve- a little too naïve. But harmless. Besides, I thought that if he didn't wish me well, I could take care of him anyway, I thought and almost immediately regretted thinking that as I realized how it sounded.

Besides the fact that I had no idea why would I want to go to some kind of a bureau, I would really appreciate any help at that point. "Yes. Take me to the bureau, please."

Radshi was a rather good guide, so we got there in under ten minutes. A good score, considering we had to go there by foot. Once we got there, though, I had another sample of the ridiculousness that I would soon learn to live with.

"What do you mean by 'on the roof'?" I said stupidly. "Like, I have to climb? But that's just dumb." Really, I had no idea why would anyone make an entrance to their bureau on the roof instead of the safe ground. Why would anyone even do as much as _want_ to climb up there to get inside? Really, this made no sense at all.

Radshi looked at me strangely.

Just for how long, did you say, you were an Assassin?" He questioned doubtfully. I gave the building in front of me another long stare before deciding I was going to try.

"I didn't." I answered, avoiding the answer. If he helped me out only because he thought I was an Assassin, I shouldn't tell him that I was not. Or maybe I was? The answer would be clearer if I could remember my past life, that's for sure.  
"Will you go first?" I wanted to see how he would do this and maybe try to copy his moves.

Radshi gave a disappointed sigh and grabbed the edge of the lowest window, pulling himself up and grabbing the next. It didn't seem that hard, so I followed. It was much easier than it looked like - actually, I was good enough at it to suspect I have been climbing buildings my whole life. Which might or might not have been true, considering that I didn't know anything about it. Huh. I was probably taking this easier than I should. But then again, if I didn't know what I've lost, how could I mourn over the loss of it? I didn't really have the time to ponder on that question because, once on the rooftop, Radshi leapt down into the building and I felt like I ought to follow. It wasn't really that high.

"Here." He said, shaking my hand. "It was nice to meet you," He stopped, and that must've been the moment he realized that I haven't told him my name.

"It was nice to meet you, too." I said hurriedly, not wanting to get into an awkward situation./p  
And just like that, he was gone. I sighed. On my own again.

"Safety and peace, rafiq." The words rolled out of my mouth when I entered the room like I used that phrase many times before. "I-" I stopped, staring at the man standing behind the counter with shock as I recognized him. "Malik? What are you doing here?"

I wasn't sure how I knew him, but I knew that we were friends. I also was convinced that he wasn't even supposed to be in Jerusalem. But then again, so was I.

Malik looked at me with a strange expression that soon changed.

"Who did you say you are?" He asked with eyes narrowed. I would gladly answer that question if I at least knew what my name was. "I can't recall your name, but..." He shook his head. "Don't I know you?" I wanted to reply 'I have no idea. I don't remember anything about my life, but I just happened to stumble upon one of your fellow Assassins who showed me the way to this bureau and I thought that I would meet someone named Altaïr here, since that name is the only thing I remember, but beside all of that, yes, I'm pretty sure we've met before,' but instead I just said "No, I don't think so."

He shook his head, as if wanting to clear his mind.

"You certainly remind me of someone. But who could that be?" He pondered on that question for a moment, then seemingly he reminded himself that I was still there because he asked "What did you say you wanted?"

"I'm seeking for someone." I cleaned my throat, "Do you know anyone by the name Altaïr?"

His reaction was immediate, emotions painting all over his face. He obviously had a hard time hiding them, since I could easily notice that he and this Altaïr weren't exactly best friends.

"I know only one person who goes by that name." The rafiq said, his expression changing into something else, making me actually surprised - amusement. Why would he be amused at something? "And he just happens to be standing right behind you."

I turned around and jumped back immediately after I saw the man standing silently behind me with an abashed expression. But the moment my eyes met his terrifyingly golden and unnaturally-looking ones, I felt something strange. It was as if a wave of memories and associations overflew my mind, and it was so overwhelming that I couldn't stand it without shaking my head to clear it from the heavy amount of meaningless information that I suddenly received.

I stared at the newcomer who, I figured, had to be Altaïr with bewilderment. It didn't escape my sight that he too examined me closely, as if remembering something. I wondered if he was the one who did this to me… assuming that it was done by a person, and not just some kind of disorder.

"Alright, I am ready to call this disturbing." Malik abruptly spoke up and I realized that me and Altaïr were staring at each other for quite a while now.

"Excuse me, rafiq," I said in apologetic voice, exiting the room. It didn't require much intelligence to find out that this Altaïr was returning here after a successful mission. Not like their conversation didn't tell me enough of that. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was rather inevitable taking how little space was there, and what they were saying made me grimace unwillingly. Killing, yuck.

The man who, I figured, had to be Altaïr, soon returned, looking rather displeased. He shook his head

So you're Altaïr?" I questioned, just as a precaution.

"And you are Ismíra?" He asked, and I noticed that he didn't answer my question directly. I had more important things in my mind at the moment. He just said my name.

"Actually... Yes." I whispered, shell-shocked. My name. Such an essential part of who I was. I definitely felt better knowing it. "How do you know me?" I asked, quickly adding "And how do I know you?"

I just hoped he wasn't my boyfriend or something like that, because then it would get way more awkward than it already was.

"I thought I knew..." He rubbed his cheek, deep in thought. "But I do not."

"But you know who you are?" I wanted to make sure we both were victims of the same thing.

"Is this supposed to mean that you _don't_?" He looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"As much as I'd like to say it, this isn't exactly a long story." In a split-second decision, I chose to trust this guy. Maybe he wasn't sincere- Maybe he wasn't kind- Maybe he wasn't even as much as a good person- Maybe. But there was something more to this Altaïr, and I was convinced that it was something good.

I just had to find out what it was.

 **A/N: Just when am I gonna stop beginning new stories? But I was so excited about this one that I just _had_ to submit it. I like this idea much more than anything else I've ever written so far. Actually, I came up with it about two months ago, but I had to think it through and through to make sure I'm not gonna make it bad. It is a good idea. You just can't see it from now. Things will really begin to happen in the third or fourth chapter. For now, that's all I have for you.**

 **Note: I'm fully aware of the difference between رفيق and داي and I am fully aware that Malik is a dai, not a rafiq. But it doesn't seem like that much of a difference for the plot, so I didn't bother myself with changing it so that it wouldn't sound as professional as it does now.**

 **So, if you liked it (or not), leave a review and say what you liked (or not). Perhaps you don't know it, but those reviews really help and motivate the author.**

 **Until then, farewell, dear readers!**

 **-Wild**

 **EDIT: 26.11.2015 - Something strange happened to the story and this chapter was turned into code. It took a lot of time to decode and transcript it back into normal text again, but mistakes or code lines can still be present, so if you spot one, please let me know. I also want to thank oochya for the heads-up and reporting this to me.  
**


	2. Spectators Of the Show

**Chapter Two  
Spectators Of the Show**

" _Some of 'em are better than the others. Virtues, they have. Find those  
_ _people. Let 'em help ya shape the world into a better place."_

For one day, I saw more than enough of Jerusalem.

Altaïr didn't really act hurriedly. Instead, he seemed to focus on every single problem and try to solve it. He would save poor citizens attacked by the guards, escort some of the lower ranked Assassins to various places or just help people out in matters as pedestrian as simply carrying a heavy crate for a woman.

At the beginning, I had no idea why he did all those things. But I was eager to learn.

So I followed him everywhere, staying quiet for most of the time, and just watching. I watched him help people, I watched him receive thanks, I watched him save people, I watched him _kill_ , and I felt like I understood.

Altaïr was a hero. Well, not really, but he had a hero's instinct. I noticed that he couldn't resist helping others when they were in need.

I recalled the faces of all people I've seen talk to him. They looked up to him, Assassins or not. They saw a savior.

It took me a little longer to understand the looks they gave him. What they held was not, as I initially thought, simple thankfulness. What I saw on the faces of the young Assassins surprised me at first, for it was almost worship. The older ones referred to him as 'master' and, even though I didn't know whether it was simply a matter of politeness or an actual title, I noticed something else in their eyes. It was a hard emotion to read, since it wasn't a very common one. It wasn't that far off from the adoration the youngsters gave Altaïr, but it wasn't even close to it either. No, this was more complicated.

I was dealing with respect.

I wanted to know where did it come from.

So, back to Altaïr. I learned that he was a talented swordsman and, honestly, that one wasn't really that hard to learn. All it took was to see him fighting. And I did. He was like an angel of death, unstoppable once thrown into combat.

What else did I learn about Altaïr?

Not as much as I wanted.

His left hand was missing the ring finger. I initially wanted to ask him about it, but decided against it after recalling the way Malik glared during a similar situation. This kind of thing was probably a touchy subject.

Besides that, I had no idea who he was.

He hardly ever spoke up, and even when he did that, only to inform people about something important. So yes, no chit-chats with that guy. It almost made me feel lonely.

At noon we set off to Damascus. At least, Altaïr did. I just followed him silently, since that was the only thing I could actually do. Altaïr was the only thing from my past I could remember, and I decided to hold onto that thing.

The air felt heavy as we rode together in silence. I really wanted to talk with someone – and, since there was no one else around, that meant talking with Altaïr – but I didn't dare to speak up. I can't really explain that feeling – it was some kind of an aura radiating off him, a clear sign saying 'do not bother me or you'll regret it'. How could he remain so silent for so long? I was practically itching to say something.

I guess that talkativeness was indeed one of my character traits.

You can easily guess how surprised I was to find out that when there was no one else around, Altaïr was more open for conversation with me. At the beginning, he only wanted to talk about the mystery surrounding my person, but nothing more. So we talked about it. I was relieved to finally be able to speak freely – I felt very good around Altaïr, like we'd known each other for years. Which might or not have been true, actually. Thanks to my amnesia, nothing was firm. I didn't remember. Altaïr either. I just _knew_ some things – the most basic ones, like my age or the political situation in the world. Altaïr, on the other hand, could sometimes _feel_ something – like it was with my name, later confirmed by _my_ feeling that it was right.

The whole thing was making us both really confused.

"Every time I think I'm close to actually _remembering_ , something happens and interrupts me," I sighed once, making Altaïr look at me with interest.

"What makes you remember?" He asked, making me recall every moment I've had this strange déjà vu-like feeling.

"There was the first time I heard the word 'Assassin'," I said, remembering the moment when Radshi ran into me in the exact moment I began to remember, "also when I went to the Assassin Bureau. Maybe I had gone there before?"

"That's possible. You _are_ an Assassin, after all." He said. It sure seemed like I was the only one who wasn't convinced I was one of them. "What else?"

"Nothing," I replied slowly, looking down at the back of my horse. "besides… you know, _you_."

He didn't seem particularly touched by that statement, and, really, I should have expected that. It seemed like there was close to nothing that was able to touch him. _Not even Malik shouting at him_ , I thought with a smirk. I had already managed to befriend the leader of the Assassin Bureau in Jerusalem, as well as learn how much the two of them hated each other. From what little information I had, it seemed it was a really complicated situation - Malik's brother died because of Altaïr, or Altaïr killed him, or something else like that. It was a wonder those two still talked to each other at all.

"How longer are we going to ride?" I asked after a few hours. It was really getting boring on the road, and I began to fill my time with thinking about good ways of attacking Altaïr. I didn't really plan to harm him (besides, I'm sure he could disarm me in mere seconds with ease), but it was a way of getting myself busy. A mind game. According to my calculations, I died every time. The best chance I had was taking away his sword – he would be left only with his hidden blade, which I still had no idea how to take off.

"We have a half day's journey left at best," Altaïr replied in the same emotionless voice he reserved for everyone else. He surely must've noticed that the sky was slowly turning red as well, since he vaguely mentioned finding a good place to spend the night. So yeah, yay for my second day in the world, I guess.

For my justification, I can tell that I didn't know _how much_ trouble always seemed to follow Altaïr just then. All I can say is that you should never underestimate your enemy. Especially when he is an Assassin. And that we had to choose another place for our camp, since Altaïr didn't know what to do with the bodies of the Saracen patrol.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

The first thing that came to my head in the morning was 'never sleep in hay again.' My ribs hurt. My joins hurt. My neck hurt. I was glad I stripped myself out of the leather armor that was on my legs and forearms, even though Altaïr objected. I looked at him with respect. He rejected taking off any of his armor and weapons, and clearly didn't have the same problems I had. This, of course, caused me to wonder how many times he'd done this before. Guessing from his posture, more than I knew. This was nothing new to him, just routine. Sadly, it was new to me, and in that case 'new' meant 'uncomfortable'.

I gave him an apologetic smile as it took me a while to put my armor and hidden blade back on. Instead of saying, anything, Altaïr just climbed onto his horse's back. The animal gave a small neigh, but everything was quiet for quite a while. I could feel Altaïr's glare on me even when I turned around. I couldn't help but think that it was rather polite of him to wait for me just like that, especially after I joined him without even asking.

"Thanks for letting me go with you," I said casually as we continued on with our journey to Damascus.

"I had to," he answered simply, "you had no place to go."

Of course, how could I forget? Hero, always helping others in need.

It _was_ a virtue, after all.

After a while of travelling, I finally began to notice the bliss of having a hood. It appeared the sun was even hotter there than in Jerusalem, if that's even possible. It was far beyond 'hot,' and the chance to get at least a shade over my eyes was indeed a fortune.

In our white robes and the hoods on (not to mention Altaïr's not-so-unobvious sword), it's no wonder we looked like a threat to every single patrol we encountered. They certainly knew how to recognize an Assassin when they saw one and, what to say?, we did get actually attacked a couple of times.

About noon, though, we encountered a different kind of threat.

"Do you hear that?" Altaïr asked. By then, I knew better than to disobey him, so I slowly came to a halt and began to listen for anything. After a second I could easily make out the sound of horses and people alike. There were many of them. Too many for a merchant caravan or a Saracen patrol.

"Assassins?" I asked with a slight tune of hope in my voice. Altaïr shook his head.

"We don't get our horses so heavily armored," he replied, "these people apparently prefer protection in combat from speed and agility."

"What do we do, then?"

"Simple: we pretend we're merchants," Altaïr said, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. I, on the other hand, didn't like the idea. Not even one bit.

"They're not gonna fall for it." I said, but followed him obediently as he reduced the rate to an almost absurdly slow. He also grabbed the reins in a different fashion. I tried to mimic his moves in the best way I could, but probably with little result. The group of people turned out to be knights in expensive-looking armors, shining in the bright sunlight. I covered my eyes with one hand, getting a little angry on Altaïr for making me take off the hood. Even more when I noticed that _he_ didn't do that.

We had to get off the main road for a while, letting them pass by. They paid us no attention at all, and I sighed with relief when they were gone.

"Those were the Crusaders, weren't they?" I asked once they were out of both earshot and sight.

"How did you know?" Altaïr questioned. At the beginning I thought that he was being sarcastic, but a look at his serious expression proved me wrong. I thought about the answer for a while, the thing being, I did not know either.

"I… just knew. I mean, besides the Saracen and the Assassins, they are the only force who really have their men in the Kingdom. I mean, I know there are also the Templars, and the Knights Teutonic, Knights Hospitaller, and the Alcántara Order, and literally _every_ other military order plundering the Holy Land at the moment, but these count into the Crusader Army, don't they?" I tried to explain.

Altaïr looked ahead thoughtfully, falling silent for almost an hour.

"Do you know who commands the Crusader forces right now?" He finally spoke up. I snorted.

"Well, _of course_ I do. It's that English king Richard, isn't it?"

"And the Knights Templar?" He caught me off-guard by asking about just one order directly after learning who commands the whole Crusader army, but I knew the answer nonetheless.

"Their grandmaster, Robert de Sable."

Altaïr seemed to wince a little at that name, but nodded anyway. His next question caught me by surprise, but I somehow knew the answer for that one as well.

"Can you tell me something about the current position of the Assassin Order?"

"We've had a little disagreement with the Knights Teutonic for two years now, the Crusaders almost hunt us on sight, the Saracens don't really have a problem with us until someone dies, but besides that we're good," I replied almost automatically, though noticing the fact that I used the word 'we'. "Oh, and we've had a quarrel with the Templars since, like, _forever_."

"Interesting…" Leaning back in his saddle, Altaïr once again rubbed his chin in deep thoughtfulness.

"What do you mean by 'interesting'?" I asked, already knowing Altaïr well enough to know he wouldn't tell me what he had on his mind unless I asked.

"Just that: interesting. I still have to think this through."

"You won't tell me anything, will you?" I asked. As usual, instead of replying, Altaïr only sped up.

* * *

 **A/N: And here it is – a little shorter than the first one, but I consider it better. What do you guys think? Leave your thoughts in the review section down below! Also, I want to give big thanks to everyone supporting the story by following it and writing reviews. You guys rock, thanks!**

 **-Wild**


	3. Receptivity

**Chapter Three  
Receptivity**

" _If the world was a good place, what purpose would we_ _have in it? Reflect  
_ _on that, would you, Assassin?"_

Damascus was a little smaller than Jerusalem, but not less magnificent in any way. Really, all these tall buildings were making me feel small. And since I didn't have much to do, I decided to take a little tour through the city, partly only to have something to do. But mostly because I was lost.

Altaïr left me alone a while before, saying that he had 'business to do,' and, frankly, I didn't even _want_ to know what that meant in his case. He went to the Assassin Bureau - apparently there's one in every major city - and didn't come out for at least ten minutes, so I quickly grew bored. Then, I noticed someone who looked like an Assassin, and wanted to know where would he go. After a while of following him silently, I noticed - much to my dismay - that it was only a scholar, but dressed similar to the Assassins. I wondered how people react to Assassins, anyway. Probably they're a little afraid. That would explain the uneasy looks the scholar gave me every now and then as I followed him.

But then I realized that I had no idea where I was. And since I didn't know anyone in the city (and outside the city as well) I had nowhere to go. And Altaïr would probably be seeking for me. At least I hoped so. It would mean that he did have some human feelings after all. Again, a virtue.  
Anyway, as I had no idea where I was, I decided to find some reference point. The gates of Damascus would be a nice beginning. And everyone knows the best way to find the entrance is to follow the walls. And the best way to find the walls is to go ahead. Every city must have some end. Doesn't it?

It took me about two hours to notice that Damascus was a little larger than I initially thought.  
It was nearing sunset when I finally got to the massive wall surrounding the city.

It was already dark when I found a stack of hay to sleep in.

It was beyond dawn when I woke up. Jumping out of the hay, I thought about the stupidity of sleeping there. I also wondered where Altaïr spent the night. Probably somewhere warm and comfortable, unlike me.

Again, I wondered what should I do next. I should probably find the Assassin Bureau, but where would I find it? On a roof, yeah, thanks. I was not Altaïr - all these buildings looked the same for me.

I looked around at the people all around me. They had a purpose, a place to go or a thing to do. They were going to the market to buy something or just to work. They knew exactly where they were going, caring on with their business and passing by like I even wasn't there. No one cared who I was or what I was doing.

I was lost. Unlike all these people, I didn't know where should I go. Looking around, I realized that I didn't stand out as much as I thought I did. Maybe I could get somewhere... just follow the crowd. Yeah, that shouldn't be that bad. Besides, it would probably make me feel less lonely. Probably.

"Hey, you there!" I heard a whisper from my right side. Turning towards the source of the voice, I noticed a man in white robes of an Assassin standing by a fountain. He was waving to me confidentially and I assumed it was because of my Assassin-like appearance. Or was it me being an Assassin? This whole amnesia was really making me unsure. Anyway, I walked over to him to notice that his left leg was bleeding, poorly bandaged.

"Safety and peace, sister," he greeted me. Of course, the brotherhood - we're all brothers and sisters to each other. Nice.

"Upon you as well... whoever you are." I said awkwardly. "What's wrong?"

I wanted to act concerned. Maybe if I helped him, he would help me.

"I broke my leg," he explained with a pained expression. Ouch. "That's what happens when you don't perform the Leap of Faith rightly."

"Oh," I said, not wanting to admit that I had no idea what that Leap of Faith thing was. Most probably just another strange Assassin tradition. "How can I help you?"

"If only you could help me get to the Bureau, I would be grateful. I can't really get there on my own right now and my leg needs medical treatment."

I could almost feel my face lit up.

"Sure thing. You just have to show me the way. This is my first time being in Damascus and I'm a little lost. I came here with a... a friend, who went on an investigation and I was alone ever since, trying to find my way through the city."

He gave a little smile.

"Then it's good that we met. You will help me, and I will help you through the help you will give helping me help you."

"Uh, yeah," I muttered, that last sentence making me a little disoriented. "Sure."

I let him lean on my shoulder, taking his weight on me.

======oooOOO***OOOooo=======

"When I tell you not to go anywhere, it means that I want you _not to go anywhere_ ," Altaïr growled. "Which part you don't understand?"

"I already apologized," I complained, "What else do you want me to do?"

He sighed, resigned.

"Just don't do anything stupid this time."

"Yeah, sure."

With that, he was gone.

I turned around with resignation. There was much more I could do to help him if he just let me go out there. Of course, he didn't.

At least the Assassin I met – Faris, I learned – was grateful for my help. That was one good thing.

The rafiq of Damascus wasn't really friendly either, but he at least gave me the access to some of the books. I pretended I was just doing some research, but I was really interested particularly with the one book with all the Assassins in it.

It was a really large book, and very long. But it seemed rather current. Though its size still intimidated me, and I had to be careful not to destroy it (it was much older that it looked), I decided I was going to do my research. The book was long, true, but I shouldn't care much about it.

After all, I was only searching under 'A'.

I opened the massive tome, a gust of dust blowing in my face, and began searching.

It soon became clear that the task I gave myself was much harder than I initially thought it would be – there were about ten people named 'Altair' in the index. The name 'Altaïr' occupied the next five pages.

I sighed. There was nothing else to do, so I began my research. After a rather long while, I managed to find four names fitting to the man I travelled with.

 _Altaïr Ad'Akif  
_ _Position in the Brotherhood: rafiq, leader of the Assassin Bureau in Tunis  
_ _Abilities: great swordsman, very good at stealth. Has major knowledge about the current political situation.  
_ _Weak points: sight problems  
_ _Status: retired_

 _Altaïr Al-Safi  
_ _Position in the Brotherhood: apprentice  
_ _Abilities: a promising swordsman, great swimmer.  
_ _Weak points: is terrible at stealth.  
_ _Status: alive_

 _Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad  
_ _Position in the Brotherhood: master Assassin  
_ _Abilities: brilliant swordsman with high reflex, strength and stamina. Is very good at stealth.  
_ _Weak points: can't swim.  
_ _Status: unknown_

 _Altaïr Ibn-Saleem  
_ _Position in the Brotherhood: journeyman  
_ _Abilities: high stamina and speed. Is very good at stealth.  
_ _Weak points: is a bad swordsman.  
_ _Status:_ (there was once the word 'alive', but it was crossed to make room for 'deceased')

I flinched unwillingly and decided to strike the last one off of my mental list. There I was with three names left – which one was I looking for? I could probably strike off Altaïr Ad'Akif, since he was retired, but the same could go to Altaïr Al-Safi, who was an apprentice. Then… Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad? But how can you even get 'unknown' as your status?!

"Ugh!" I slammed my head into the desk. Why had this have to be so hard? I _just_ wanted to know who I was dealing with.

"Having trouble?" I heard a sarcastic comment for behind me. I did my best not to growl. The rafiq of Damascus was a really irritating person. He also seemed to pick at me ever since he found out I travelled with Altaïr. Really, what trouble did all these people have? Or rather, what trouble did _Altaïr_ have?

"No. Not at all." I shot back as I slammed the tome closed. I didn't want him to know what I was looking for inside of it. "You can have the book back," I said, literally throwing it to him. He had a high reflex, unfortunately. I would really _love_ to get this man in trouble.

======oooOOO***OOOooo======

Turns out my Altaïr had to be Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

I was completely convinced he couldn't swim.

We went for a walk through Damascus. Altaïr apparently wanted to remind himself about all the streets, towers and buildings (something regarding 'his mission'). He took me along mostly to get me to know the area in case I got lost again. Actually, I almost begged him to let me go out since I couldn't bring myself to spending another moment with the rafiq.

People are strange.

I still couldn't understand why Altaïr only dropped that 'silent guy' act when we were alone. There were some interesting subjects we could talk about, and I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't want to converse with anyone else. This guy was interesting and I was sure he could have more friends (assuming he had friends at all) if he was more open to people. It wasn't that hard. At least, not for me. But as far as I was concerned, me and Altaïr were complete opposites. In everything. It made me wonder how did we get along so well.

Because we really did.

So he showed me the Poor District of Damascus, where most people didn't even have a home, begging for money when we walked by. Everyone seemed so unhappy there, I couldn't bear it. I wanted to somehow escape the desperate voices of women who couldn't afford raising their children properly, the sad cries of people who lost their loved ones to various diseases. I wanted to cover my ears and go away, but I couldn't. I only managed to get myself to go out because Altaïr was there, guiding me.

Then, we walked through the Middle District, where I could finally admire the true beauty of the largest city of Syria. People there gave us meaningful glances, so we stalked silently, not drawing much attention. As 'my guide' explained me later, they were more aware of the presence of the Assassins in the world.

"They don't like us. They shouldn't. But they tolerate us because they know that they can't fight us."

It made me feel a little depressed.

As we walked through the Rich District, I noticed that Altaïr seemed to be avoiding one part of the city. I told him so, only to make him look away. Why did everyone have to be hiding something?

At least Altaïr finally admitted he didn't want to go there because of the river. Apparently he didn't really like it. Of course, I entreated to go there. I wanted to see it. When we reached there, I learned that the Barada river, though not that long, was one of the biggest rivers I might see in the Holy Land. Everyone around seemed to be enjoying the cool breeze, a bliss at a day as hot as that one, but no one seemed to be enjoying _the water_.

"Why isn't anyone swimming?" I asked Altaïr, who only shrugged as if it was obvious.

"It's prohibited. Besides, the citizens aren't supposed to be able to swim."

I eyed him carefully.

"Except the Assassins," I said firmly. I knew how to swim. Every other Assassin I met so far did too. Altaïr's eyes darkened at that comment.

"We are expected to," he agreed. "But not all of us _can_."

* * *

 **A/N: Terribly sorry for the long wait, but, you know,** _ **school**_ **. I had to work a little harder than usual because, obviously, it is nearing the end of the school year and my grades had to get better in a short amount of time. Pretty sure most of you know what I feel.**

 **So far, things are terribly slow in this story, but that's the way I like it. Besides, there will be many assassinations, infiltrations and stuff soon, so consider this a prelude.**

 **Until next time! (hopefully soon)**

 **-Wild**


	4. Sands Of Time

**A/N: I want to dedicate this chapter to the ever-amazing Connor Pelkey AKA Cyril the Wolf, whose fabulous work on his album 'The Sands Of Time' actually inspired me to write this story. The songs 'Sands of Time' and 'The Haze' have a really nice desert-like flow and are just perfect for an AC1 fanfic, especially when the characters travel through the desert.**

 **So, Connor, if you'll ever read this, I want you to know how awesome your music is. Big thanks, man!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four  
Sands Of Time**

" _When time flows but leaves you behind, left with scars in your mind, mercy  
doesn't leave a trace. You feel like you're simply a disgrace…"_

When I didn't occupy my time with strengthening my friendship with Altaïr, I trained.

The first thing that I thought I should do was learning how the mechanism strapped to my right forearm worked. It didn't take me long to see how advanced it was. The blade extended every time I made a fast move with my ring finger, just below my wrist. I quickly learned that I should look out for my fingers, and probably found the explanation to how Altaïr lost one of his.

It didn't make the weapon any less intriguing. If anything, the danger made it feel even more curious. Like there was some sort of sacrifice people were willing to make in order to use that blade. I learned that if I was going to use the full potential of the weapon, like using it with a closed fist, I was going to sacrifice my ring finger. It didn't sound really appealing. At least, not to me. I noticed that not only Altaïr, but some more of the Assassins I met missed their ring finger. But not Malik. Not Faris. And definitely not me.

Once I figured how the hidden blade—apparently that was the right name for the mechanism—worked, I switched to swordplay.

At afternoons, I trained with Faris. He was a good sparring partner, but also - what was more important in my case - a good teacher. And though it was obvious I would probably never reach Altaïr's level, it was quite clear that I was no new to fighting. I could easily block most of Faris' strikes, but my attack was a little worse than the defense. I couldn't find the right place to strike, and almost never reached him. It was getting me a little upset, but I became determined to become better. Through hard work and training.

On evenings I trained with Altaïr. Well, at least usually. With Altaïr, nothing was ever sure - whether he would show up on our training session, whether he would go out for hours, whether he would even return to the Bureau for the night - nothing.

But he was an amazing swordsman. You have no idea how easy it was to get lost in his swift moves and perfectly timed attacks, forget that you came there to fight with him, not just look. It was even easier to lose. A sword fight with Altaïr usually lasts about ten seconds - enough time for him to disarm me without even touching his own sword. Like I said, he was amazing.

I wondered how long did it take him to learn all that stuff. He was still relatively young, around my age, I guess - which had to be somewhere around twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Should I feel good or bad about not knowing my age? I felt a mixture of feelings, as expected. I've been too occupied with all that training to even notice that I felt better than I should. I was actually... having a good time. It was very strange.

My whole life, my memories, had been taken away from me. I was only left with my name and a few associations. A few names or faces that I was sure I could remember, even though I couldn't ever recall them. This was all. I didn't know who I was. Was I an Assassin? Probably, yes. Then why was I alone? How did I know Altaïr? (That question formed another one - who was Altaïr after all?) Who could know what exactly happened to me and why? Where were they? What was going on? What should I do?

What should I do?

This was the question I wanted to focus on. What should I do? I needed a purpose. As much as I hated to admit it, blindly following Altaïr on his journey through the Holy Land hardly sounded like a plan. Not that I didn't like traveling with Altaïr, but I should focus on finding out who I was rather than making friends with people who were probably my friends before. It didn't really sound like there was much sense in it.

There was also one more thing I had to add to my list of problems. I was beginning to get bored in Damascus. Jerusalem was an interesting city, opposed to this one. Technically, I've been there for only two days, so it was a little short to get me bored with the city, but that didn't matter.

If we didn't leave that place quickly, I was going to rip that insufferable rafiq apart.

I was bored of the Assassin Bureau. The place was nice. It was always cool in there, as opposed to the unbearable heat of the outside, and there was always a chance of something attention-grabbing happening (life in the Brotherhood is more interesting than it would seem). There was even a nice little fountain in the hall.

But for most of the time, there was nothing to do there.

I was going insane inside of that cursed building. I mean, I could go out anytime I wanted, but my first experience with Damascus and its huge size discouraged me from that. Getting lost once again wasn't high on my priority list. Actually, it wasn't anywhere on that list. So I stayed inside, silently waiting for something to change. I already got used to the schedule. I spent most of my time with Faris, anyway, since he too stayed in that Bureau for most of the time. I learned that he was the rafiq's right-hand-man. What that meant, I had no idea, but it apparently made him stay in the city. So we went through our daily lives together – mainly just to make something vary from the dullness of regular life. And considering that my regular life was pretty much Altaïr, it was a variety. Faris was the total opposite of Altaïr, when it came to temperament.

He liked to talk, for one.

You can easily guess just how relieved I was when Altaïr said we were going to hit the road again. Apparently, his job in Damascus – I still couldn't bring myself to ask him what was it exactly – was done and he was needed somewhere else. And even though I knew this meant travelling through the desert once again, I was overjoyed to finally get out of that city.

I felt very smug when Altaïr had to do all the heavy-carrying for both of us. I was a woman, after all. So _he_ had to take all of our food supplies, the little medicine we had, the fodder for our horses, some – as he called it – 'civil clothes,' and everything else, counting in all of his weapons (and, mind you, he didn't carry around only his sword and hidden blade. For a moment there, I thought he took all that stuff only to add more weight to everything he was already lugging, but no. He really needed two swords, ten knives, several daggers… Well, I think you know where I'm getting with this).

As we reached the city gates, I turned around with a strange feeling of nostalgia. Despite it being as annoying as it was (I was still impressed that I could be angry on _a city_ ), I spent some really nice moments there. I made friends… One friend, I quickly corrected myself. It was a nice break from the war that was still going on out there. And even though the Assassins shouldn't take a part in it, it was still a war. And war touches everyone.

Once we got to our horses, I decided I was going to help Altaïr after all. We packed everything to saddlebags (and sheaths or cases, in the case of Altaïr's small armory) and set off.

I think that I should explain how I got that horse, since I didn't do that before. Well, the horse wasn't exactly mine. I got if from a friend – an especially generous rafiq who lived in Jerusalem and, apparently, wanted to prove how much better than Altaïr he was. So he lent me the beautiful animal which he didn't actually need any more.

Malik's horse was a strong, aureate stallion called Spirit. I quickly grew close to the colt, caring about him even more as it was a gift from a friend. It was a beautiful horse – a purebred animal, clearly born for overcoming long distances and possible combat. The stallion was strong enough to lift an armored knight (or rather, Assassin, in this case) and an armor on his own, what meant that if I wasn't going to throw myself into open combat (which, I hoped, I wouldn't do), we could use him as our beast of burden.

Altaïr's mare, Snowfire, was pure white, with white mane and tail as well as coat. And it was her appearance that made him look probably as heroic as possible. But then again, isn't that always the case in the books? A noble hero cloaked in white, riding on a pure white horse, saves everyone from the evil. _How strange… This description actually reminds me of someone_ , I thought with sarcasm. Wow, I think I reached a new level: sarcasm in my thoughts. Malik would be proud of me.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

Travelling through the desert is definitely _not fun_. The sun is unbearably hot and there is almost no wind at all, so you can't escape the ubiquitous heat. Also, there is the sand. I actually think it can be the single most annoying thing in the world. Not only is it dull and so bright that you can't even stand looking at it during a sunny day, but it also gets everywhere. And I mean, _everywhere_. Inside your eyes, inside your mouth, under your clothes, inside your hair, inside the food supplies – you name it, the sand is there. So you not only have to bear staying sane with that thing everywhere on your body, but also you are forced to eat it. I'm not saying that sand has some terrible taste or something like that, – it doesn't have any taste at all – but the constant crunchy grating can really get on your nerves. At least, it did on mine.

Of course, Altaïr seemed completely unfazed by all that trouble. He wrapped a white (white! Why did every single part of his clothing have to be white?) shawl over his face and, apparently, decided to ignore the sand blowing into his eyes by not letting it do it. I wished a had a shawl like that… As well as a composure like that.

Also… Remember when I said that sitting in the Assassin Bureau was boring? It was nothing in comparison to the monotony of riding a horse in the desert. This time, I was striving for something to do… _Anything_ that would be better than just staring ahead. Again, something that Altaïr didn't mind doing even though it was completely pointless and frustrating.

When I asked him what can I do to get rid of the boredom, he gave me a strange suggestion.

"Why don't you try counting?"

"Counting what?" I was confused. What did he want me to do, count all of the grains of sand in that cursed desert?

"Just counting. Recording the passage of time." He explained, and I slowly began understanding where he was going with that. "We're going to get to the nearest village in about two hours. One hour is sixty minutes. One minute is sixty seconds. When you reach seven thousand and two hundred, we will probably be leaving the desert."

"Alright." I shrugged and began counting. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… Only when I saw the smirk on Altaïr's face, I understood the stupidity of that task.

"Oh, you know what?" I exclaimed, hardly suppressing a smile on my own. "That's just mean!"

Altaïr looked at me with fake sincerity.

"But the look on your face was priceless."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," I grumbled, hastening my horse to get away from him. I couldn't get him. I didn't understand that guy. Just a few moments ago, I highly doubted if he was even able to smile, and now he just laughed at me. That was… very difficult to understand.

Forget my past and all the great questions of humanity – the _real_ mystery here was _Altaïr_.

* * *

 **A/N: Whoa! Another update in this week? That's probably the best I've ever done! I might even consider updating this story regularly… (Not that it means I would be neglecting my other stories, but… you know…) Well, I hope you all enjoyed. I wonder what will happen to our heroes in the next chapter… Well, probably not that much, since they have to get to Acre first, and that might take a while (Damascus — Acre is the longest distance in the game)**.

 **So, review! Comment! Leave a sign that you read this! Write something in that blank rectangle down below… Would you do this? For me? (And if not for me, do it for Altaïr. He really wants you to^^)**

 **-Wild**


	5. Prevalance

**Chapter** **Five**  
 **Prevalence**

" _Nothing stays the same for long, but when it changes doesn't mean it's  
gone. Time will always get away as it leaves behind another day…"_

If travelling through the desert during the day was hard, it truly was a nightmare during the night.

The terrible heat turned into freeze faster than it would even seem possible. The sun was gone, replaced by the moon, which became the only source of light in the starless sky. And the only thing that was still relatively warm was the sand, having been heated by the sun for all day. Before we even noticed, we ended up walking on the slowly cooling ground, leading our horses by the reins.

After an hour or so of walking like that, the scenery finally began to change. Some crags or even small cliffs began appearing occasionally, and even some houses sporadically. We entered a small village – something that I have been longing to see for a long time. Of course, there weren't any people out in the streets, since it was the edge of night, but the feeling that we were somewhere in civilization made me feel better almost immediately. I instantly thought that this was the right place to spent the night, but… Where exactly? I wasn't so sure I could bear sleeping on the ground again. As we walked through the village, I noticed that there were still lights lit inside some of the houses. I guess it wasn't _that_ late yet, but it was late enough for anyone fortune enough to have an intact and comfortable bed to be asleep. I thought about a nice, comfy bed… I would jump onto it and let myself fall deep into the softness of a mattress… A mattress! What wouldn't I give for a mattress… That thought warmed me up for a minute, but then I had to snap back to the sad reality. No beds, and definitely no mattresses. Just the road before me and the heavy stench of sweat and horse fur.

I sighed.

The air was really cool, so I had to wrap myself in any cloth I had to keep warm. I didn't want to complain, but I was so tired I was almost falling asleep right where I was standing. Hopefully, my companion would notice that on his own, since I didn't want to break the silence. We didn't talk to each other for hours. If it was someone else, I would have even wondered if he was upset with me. But that silence in our journey wasn't the awkward one that I would expect somewhere else (maybe in a room with both Malik and Altaïr inside?), but a good one. A sign that we didn't have to talk to feel good in each other's company.

…Who was Altaïr? To me, I mean. It was far beyond obvious that we knew each other before, but how? Was he my friend? I had a hazy memory of having a best friend who was an Assassin too, though I had a strange feeling I would never see him again. But what if Altaïr was something more to me…? More than a friend?

No. I shook my head, smiling at the ridiculousness of my logic. That would be awkward. I looked at Altaïr, who was walking a few meters ahead of me, holding the reins of both of our horses. He seemed to have everything under control - just like always, as a matter of fact. How did he do this? Remaining calm, no matter what… That hardly seemed like an easy task. Yet that man seemed to easily success at it. I actually began to find that normal for him. Like that was some kind of an easy truth in common knowledge. The way it was _supposed_ to be. He was just… different than other people. It was a good different… Actually, no. 'Different' is a bad word. If anything, Altaïr was _special_.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

I almost walked straight into Altaïr when he suddenly came to a stop. I looked around, blinking uselessly while trying to make my tired eyes work properly. After a minute or so of rubbing my eyes I shook my head and decided that it was a hopeless fight. I probably wouldn't see anything more anyway.

"Where… are we?" I asked in a sleepy voice. For a moment, I thought that Altaïr smiled at my tone, but it was probably just a trick of light.

"Somewhere safe, I hope." He answered seriously. Then, he knocked on the door. Wait, a door? Where were we exactly? I thought that maybe I _really_ did fall asleep for a moment, since I couldn't recall getting there.

I wanted to comment on how he shouldn't knock on some random doors in the middle of the night, not only because it was outwardly rude, but also because we didn't know who lived in that house, but I didn't have the time as the door cracked a little, showing the sleepy face of a bearded man. He eyed both of us carefully, finally setting his eyes on Altaïr.

"Am I coming at a wrong time?" My companion asked with fake innocence. Or, at least, I thought it was fake. Actually, scratch that – I _hoped_ it was fake.

The other man made a serious face, narrowing his eyes, and I thought that we were screwed. But then, all the – fake, as I realized - seriousness washed away from his face as he opened the door, laughing.

"There's never a wrong time for you, my friend," he said as he patted Altaïr on the back.

Even though Altaïr didn't sigh in relief, I did that for the both of us.

"Good. We need a place to sleep. Could you lend us some space?" Of course. There you have the always formal Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. Even to his friends.

"What's mine is yours," the older man said and looked at me. I didn't hide the fact that I was looking at him too. I only hoped Altaïr would be polite enough to introduce ourselves to each other. Though, considering it was _Altaïr_ , I couldn't be sure.

Then, everything became strangely blurred and I realized that I was tired. _Very_ tired. I tried to shake off the feeling, but I couldn't. I just acknowledged, like through haze, that we walked inside, then found a place to sleep, and then I didn't know anything more because I fell asleep, this time, for real.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

I woke up to the sound of someone's steady breath. I was laying on a pallet placed on the floor, and, my, was it comfortable. I let out a long breath, running my left hand through my hair.

I opened my eyes, only to see the wooden ceiling with a single oil lamp hanging from it. It was still lit, even though there was no need for that – the sunlight coming in through the window was bright enough.

I looked to my right to see the rest of the room: it was a small chamber, almost empty, and I thought that it was surely meant for guests. The door at the other end of the room was closed, so I couldn't see the rest.

I looked to my left, only to see Altaïr sleeping peacefully by my side. (And really, did he _ever_ take that hood off?) I eyed him carefully, taking advantage of the fact that, for once, he couldn't see that I was staring. He looked different when he was asleep – like all the burden and weariness was taken from his shoulders, leaving him free of all that liability for just a moment. He looked younger when he slept – almost adequately to his age. Not as respectable and mature as he always did, but more like just a young man at his best.

Then, a realization washed over me, that I was practically sleeping just by his side for all night. And now, he was sleeping right next to me. He was close. _Way. Too. Close._

I frantically pushed him away from me, not caring for the grunt of pain he made when my feet connected with his chest. His eyes shot open in a second as he sat up, a surprised expression on his face.

"What was _that_ for?!" He demanded, looking virtually helpless and disoriented. I tried my best not to crack a smile at his little outburst.

"Let me just say," I grumbled, "that I have a very strict amount of personal space when it comes to men."

He rubbed the back of his head and I could swear that I heard him whisper "unbelievable." Somehow, it was enough to make me finally wake up for real as I rolled onto the floor in laughter. He gave me a blank stare as if he couldn't understand why his helplessness would appear as funny to me. I only took a look at his face and then burst into another wave of laughter.

"I don't get you," Altaïr stated, his voice stern. In his defense, I didn't get myself either, because there was nothing especially funny in his actions. Actually, it was me that kicked him in the first place. I must be getting insane, I thought but, somehow, that thought too appeared as hilarious to me as I once again burst into laughter.

"Sorry," I managed to say between two waves of laughter. Altaïr rolled his eyes as he got up and dusted his clothes. He proceeded towards the door and looked back at me meaningfully.

"You going or not?" He asked calmly. I slowly nodded and followed him to the another room. I perked up immediately after entering. The whole house was filled with the sweet aroma of warm food. Breakfast – something I haven't had in… well, ever, as it would appear. I was actually beginning to suspect that Altaïr didn't care about his well-being at all because I never once saw him eat anything or even, as I realized with shock, sleep. Every day when I woke, he was already up and awake. And he would always go to bed _after_ I fell asleep. I was sure that going on like this wouldn't do him any good. I wanted to somehow point this out to him, but I had no idea how he would react on that kind of advice. Hopefully he wouldn't get mad at me. But then again, was he even capable of being mad at someone?

I wondered how long it took him to get so much self-control. Was it a hard-learned trick that he had been practicing for years? Or maybe he just was that way?

Ugh! So many questions, so little answers. Better to focus on the present, I decided.

It turned out the man who let us stay at his house for the night was Altaïr's old friend. (At least, that's what Altaïr said, because the other man claimed that "the boy saved mah life, an' not jus' once!" and that he owed him much more than just that.) His name was Haytham and he used to be an Assassin before he retreated. To settle down and start a family and now was blessed with a wife (who was too an ex-Assassin, by the way) and two children – a six years old girl and a three years old little boy. They were ridiculously adorable (at least for me, because it was very apparent that my friend really didn't know how to act around kids) and I had quite the laugh when I heard their names. The boy was called Altair. Even though both Haytham and his wife, Síndra, claimed that it was purely coincidental, I still managed to see that it made Altaïr uneasy.

I, on the other hand, was having a great time.

That is, until something happened that made me feel uneasy too, of course. Me and Síndra were sitting on a bench and conversing while keeping watch over the children as they played. Needless to say, their playground was Altaïr. They were having fun pulling at his clothes or trying to reach for one of his weapons (usually the eagle-shaped sword, as it was the closest to the ground and, therefore, them), all of which he, thankfully, quickly took back once taken away from him. He looked ridiculously helpless.

Just after one of his attempts at bringing to an end to being a living playground (and failing), Síndra had laughed and asked me casually:

"Quite a handsome boy, isn't he?"

At the beginning, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then, looking around briefly, I tried to find someone who would fit the description of both 'boy' and 'handsome.' Finding nothing, I raised an eyebrow on her, confused.

"Who? Altaïr?"

=======ooO***Ooo=======

It was beyond noon when we again set off to the road. Frankly, I had wanted to stay a little longer, but Altaïr reminded that we couldn't afford any more delays on our way to Acre as we were already late as it is. Of course, I had no idea why getting there soon was so important, but I didn't want to argue.

We spent the rest of the day astride our horses, barely saying a word to each other. Thankfully, the dessert ended. One good thing, at least. We found a place for a camp after it got dark, but it was worth the wait. We found a nice little stream between two hills, a perfect place for travelers who want to keep a low profile and keep their horses in a good shape at the same time.

That night, I had a nightmare. I had no idea what it was about because it faded away as soon as I opened my eyes, but apparently it was nightmarish enough to wake me up in the middle of the night.

I had been laying on the ground and just looking at the stars for a very long time, thinking about… things. When it became apparent I wasn't going to get any more sleep that night, I decided to climb onto one of those hills to get a better point of view.

I held my breath, climbing up the hill and I froze when, after reaching the top, I saw a silhouette of someone sitting there. I stiffened, already having an instinct of preparing to run if it was necessary, but the person didn't seem to notice me, instead focusing on the slow movement of the clouds in the sky.

I quietly sneaked closer, wanting to find out who it was and what was he - or she - doing there. Thankfully, all those days spent with Altaïr, the stealthiest person I know, have improved my own stealth, so I didn't have to especially fear about being noticed unless the mysterious person looked in my direction, what didn't seem very possible.

The cloud covering the moon moved aside, filling the world beneath in silver light. I took a better look at the stranger's face, which was now illuminated by the moonlight. And I froze.

It was a handsome - very handsome - young man, probably around my age. His eyes were a golden shade of amber, bearing a beautiful sparkle within, as well as an intriguing darkness and depth. Those eyes... It was amazing how I felt after seeing them. The feeling was comforting, nice and warm, almost familiar.

The man had thick, fair brown hair with a few streaks falling down onto his forehead in a messy manner. He also had a little scar on his upper lip, making him look more masculine, though still highly attractive. He wasn't exactly that type of man for every girl, but his raw beauty was certainly remarkable.

I almost chocked on the air when I realized that man was Altaïr.

Have I really never seen his face before? I was sure I didn't know how he looked like. I felt a pang in my heart. He could have... Why didn't I know how he looked? He was my friend, we were supposed to trust each other! Can you trust someone when you've never seen his face? I immediately regretted asking myself that question because the answer was 'yes'. I trusted Altaïr. Despite all his flaws and the fact that he never bothered to take his hood off so I had no idea how he looked, I trusted him. And curse me if I was wrong, but I thought that he was a good person.

…I had no idea he was handsome…

"Do you ever sleep?" I sat by his side, following his gaze and looking into the horizon. We were facing... east, I believe. Not that I was an expert.

He didn't seem surprised by me being up and awake at that time and I just had to wonder if there was anything that could make him uneasy.

He laughed silently - a beautiful sound bringing joy and happiness to every part of my body, sending shivers down my spine - at my comment.

"Only when I have to."

We sat in silence for a long while, looking at the night sky

Then, Altaïr told me all about the stars. He showed me all of the constellations we could see that night, and described those we couldn't. It was amazing - like he knew the name of every single star in the sky.

I learned how to identify the most basic ones, like the Ursas - Major and Minor or the Saggita. Altaïr was very patient and understanding, answering every question I asked.

He was a good teacher.

"The one up there is the Aquila," he said, his melodious voice ringing through the air with a silent echo. How come have I never noticed how lovely his voice was? I liked the sound of the word when he said it. Aquila. The name felt familiar. "The smallest star in this constellation is called Ezio, followed by Cephira, Tarazed, Alshain and, the last but not the least, the brightest star of this constellation—and this one is also a part of the so-called Summer Triangle Asterism—named Altair."

"Just like you," I noticed. He didn't smile like I aimed for - it was Altaïr, after all - but instead he said thoroughly:

"Yes. Quite like me." He said slowly, focusing on every word. "But not exactly."

An awkward silence fell on the two of us like a blanket of quietness. I had no idea how I should react on him being so deep. Or was he just acting? If I learned one thing while travelling with Altaïr, it was that I never know what mood he is exactly in. I wanted to sigh, but I didn't dare breaking the silence. It must've been at least ten minutes before I dared to speak up.

"Back at Haytham's..." I said and drifted off almost instantly after I felt those terrifying gold eyes turn their attention towards me. "You said you don't sing."

"That's because I don't." He cut me off before I even had the chance to finish.

"And I won't ask why." I said it in the most diplomatic voice I could muster. I felt that I should respect his privacy: if Altaïr didn't want to say something, he had a reason. Besides, a diplomatic answer seemed the most proper, considering what I was about to ask him. "But... Would you sing something now? Just for me?" I wondered if I was going too far, but I really wanted to hear him sing. "There's no one else around."

"What do you want to hear?"

I was about to answer that I didn't care for the fact that he couldn't sing, but I suddenly realized that he just agreed. I tried to hide my shock. Frankly, I had thought it would take more to convince him. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering if this was one of his pranks, but I couldn't read any emotions from his face. Like almost always, actually.

"...Whatever feels right."

He didn't waste any time on thinking on it - I suspected he picked an appropriate song before - and began singing almost instantly.

" _It started out as a feeling_

 _Which then turned into a hope_ "

I was surprised at how melodious his singing voice was. Not what I was expecting at all. It was as if he actually... practiced. You don't just have a voice like that if you don't sing from time to time. He had to practice.

" _Which then turned into a quiet thought_

 _Which then turned into a quiet word_

 _And then that word grew louder and louder_

 _Until it was a battle cry_ "

As he sang, my eyes began to fill with tears. Not only because the song was sad - because it wasn't sad, only emotional - but because it brought memories.

" _I'll come back_

 _When you call me_

 _No need to say goodbye_ "

Nostalgia was something that I had learned to live with because it became a constant part of my life, but the moments of actually reliving memories were stronger and rare. The song that Altaïr sang for me was the exact same song my father used to sing for me when I was young. I could see it now: I was ten years old, sitting on the roof of our house with my father. I had asked him about the stars too that night... Then, I had asked him to sing something that would make me feel better. I had expected a lullaby back then, but then again, I was still very young back then.

" _I'll come back_

 _When you call me_

 _No need to say goodbye_ "

My father had died less than a year later, I recalled. Sad. Even sadder now that I think about that memory of the two of us sitting on the roof of our house and looking at the panorama of Masyaf while he sang about how he would come back. He didn't.

I could almost feel the cool night breeze on my skin again as Altaïr's voice carried on with the song, filling me with sadness and happiness at the same time. I wanted to cry, and I still had no idea whether it was because I was sad or thankful. I wanted to thank him for that song he gave me, but I couldn't find my voice. So I only listened.

" _Just because everything's changing_

 _Doesn't mean it's never been this way before_

 _All you can do is try to know who your friends are_

 _As you head off to the war_ "

This song was accurate. Very accurate. I wondered if Altaïr too shuddered at the verse about knowing who your friends are. I wondered if he was friends with Malik before. If he was, what happened that broke their friendship apart? Though maybe I was just being paranoid.

" _Pick a star on the dark horizon_

 _And follow the light_ "

A thought had crossed my mind that he purposely had that talk about the stars with me before to make this verse more meaningful. And to make me really pick a star that would guide me. My first choice was Altair, but I shook my head. This wasn't my star, it was... /his/.

" _You'll come back_

 _When it's over_

 _No need to say goodbye_ "

My eyes rested at the bright star just above the horizon. Sirius. My star.

" _Now we're back to the beginning_

 _It's just a feeling and no one knows yet_ "

I could relate to this so much... I was getting lost in all these secrets and connections, and I couldn't tell anyone about the conflict inside of me, even Altaïr. I just didn't trust him enough. Not just yet. For now, this was something I had to face alone.

" _But just because they can't feel it too_

 _Doesn't mean that you have to forget_ "

It was like the song was trying to make me feel better now that it made me sad. I almost smiled. Almost.

"Let _your memories grow stronger and stronger_

 _Until they're before your eyes_ "

There were memories before my eyes, and I had no idea what to do with that. So I closed my eyes.

" _You'll come back_

 _When they call you_

 _No need to say goodbye_ "

The problem was they didn't call me just yet. If my memories called me, I would gladly embrace them and come back to my life... no matter how it looked like. I only wanted to find the truth now. It was all that mattered.

" _You'll come back_

 _When they call you_

 _No need to say goodbye_ "

Everything became silent as the song reached its end. I slowly opened my eyes. Altaïr was sitting in his place beside me, staring into the horizon. Nothing showed that he was moved by the song. There were no tears in his eyes. But I knew. I knew that, even if he tried to hide it, he was moved as much as I was. He... knew. He knew how torn I was inside. And just a look of his amber eyes, shining in the darkness, was enough to make me feel slightly better.

"Thank you for that song," I said quietly after a moment of silence. "It was beautiful."

For a long while, I thought he wasn't going to answer. He looked into the stars, as if deciding on whether he should speak up or not. I looked at him for a longer while, not wanting to stare but doing it nonetheless.

"You're welcome," he finally answered. "But never ask me for it again."

* * *

 **A/N: Yay, I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but, as I figure, it's summer so no one cares. But still, I felt bad for not uploading anything for so long, so this chapter is twice as long as a usual one.**

 **Also, it was my birthday yesterday, so hallelujah! We shall celebrate! So I've decided to pull off sort of a contest for you guys. The rules are simple: the best idea wins and I let you choose one word that I will have to feature in the next chapter. There will be two winners, those who came up with the craziest, the most interesting, the most original ideas. You are to write it in the review. So, yeah! I encourage you, all you have to do is answer a simple question: who is Ismíra? The more original the theory, the best!**

 **I'm counting on you to have many crazy ideas. 'Til the next time!**

 **-Wild**


	6. Matter Of Perspective

**Chapter Six  
Matter Of Perspective**

" _Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it  
to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment."_

I cried out in pain as an arrow hit me in the left shoulder, making me gasp for breath as I struggled to stay conscious. Black was on the edges of my already blurred vision. I was panting - short, rapid breaths.

That hurt.

Leather armor proved itself to be better than no armor at all, so the arrow didn't penetrate. It would probably leave an ugly bruise, but aside from that I would be alright.

It didn't change the fact that it hurt.

Breaking the arrow off, I tightened my grip on the bow. Five arrows left. I took one of them and risked abandoning my cover behind a rock to take aim. I shot and the Saracen archer went down. Already preparing for the next shot, I noticed two other soldiers being hit by twin knives. I smirked. Altaïr must've been close.

We ran into trouble as soon as we began to get closer to Acre. As an important strategical point in the war, it was surrounded by many groups of both armies, which wasn't good for neither of them, not to mention the people who lived there and just wanted to be left alone and have their peace. Sadly, that wasn't going to happen. Not very soon, at least. For now, they had to live in constant fear for their lives. Many of them were losing the only things keeping them alive, as both the Crusaders and Saracens took their crops to feed their armies. That I could at least understand. I knew from experience that an army is a black hole without an end, both when it came to finances and supplies. Army. I had experience with that, I was sure. But how did I gain it? I doubted the Assassins had one of their own, so that option was off. But then again, did I ever feel as an Assassin?

No.

As another arrow flew past me, I silently cursed my slowness. If I didn't act quicker, I was going to regret it. The anger made my next shot prove to be completely blank as I missed the soldier I was aiming at by several yards. I ducked, taking cover behind a fallen carriage. I immediately regretted the decision, as it made me a perfect target for any hostile archer. Thankfully, I wasn't alone in that battle.

"I hope you have more of these," I heard Altaïr's voice on my right.

I shook my head, saying "Three arrows. What about you?"

"Seven throwing knives," he answered. "Nine if I can send a dagger flying."

Another arrow flew past us, missing his head by only inches.

"You might have to." I noticed.

"No way," he grinned and ran up to the unsuspecting anything like this soldier, stabbing him with his hidden blade. He tried to do the same thing with another, only to be pushed away. With no chance of fighting like that, now that he didn't have the benefit of surprise, Altaïr drew his sword and charged at the closest of the three Saracens. The soldier, however, was expecting that and managed a counterattack. Altaïr jumped back to avoid the blade of his sword, and he did it just in time - over half a dozen arrows struck the place where he was just standing.

I cursed silently. As his backup, I should have been picking at the hostile archers who could possibly bring him harm. Instead, I just watched. I shouldn't be watching. I should be acting. And quickly.

Drawing myself up, I peeked out of my cover. Three archers; one on the ground, aiming at the fighting from a safe distance, and two others on the cliffs above. I decided to take out the one down below as the first. My skill with the weapon was growing all the time, apparently, (especially considering that I had it in possession for no more than ten minutes) and I was rewarded with the enemy archer dying even before he knew what hit him. His companions, on the other hand, knew and immediately took aim at me. Not good. Somehow, I had managed to be recognized as more of a threat than Altaïr sword-fighting in the valley below. I ducked behind the carriage as four arrows got stuck in the fabric of the wagon as they hit my cover. I aimed at one of the archers as he reloaded and fired but my shot appeared completely blank as I missed him by several feet. Well, not good. I quickly took another shot at him and this time I actually managed to hit him. It wasn't enough to kill, but I did cause a major wound for sure. Smug, I reached for another arrow.

And froze. I didn't have another arrow. I used my whole stock of them on the previous four Saracens and now I was left with nothing more than a stick with a string tied to it. A bow without arrows is virtually useless. So I threw it away, reaching for my sword. I stared at it for a while, taking in the custom carving of an eagle in the hilt. Swords like this were only used by, as I knew, the Masyaf guards and, as I had observed, Altaïr himself. And, quite obviously, me. How did Altaïr gain himself such a weapon was still unknown to me. Not to mention that I had one too…

Another arrow missing my head by inches reminded me that was not the right time for these thoughts. I jumped out of my cover and ran towards the nearest soldier. He looked at me surprised, clearly not expecting another opponent.

"And you're... who?" He mumbled, shell-shocked. I grinned, looking behind his shoulder.

"I am a no one," _but I'm not alone._ I answered as Altaïr used the opportunity to kill him.

Raising my sword, I looked around. The field was empty, save for the dead bodies. As the battle rage slowly left me, clearing my vision and mind, I stared at the flower of carnage with wide eyes.

"I think…" said Altaïr, panting, "that… was the last one of them."

I didn't answer, looking at the blood slowly dripping from my sword. I was trembling.

"Are you… alright?" He asked, looking at me with concern.

Slowly, my speaking returned as I stammered out "I killed… how many?" Shaking my head with repugnance, I looked up at him. "I just… killed them. I've never killed a person before." Or, at least, I didn't remember that.

He looked at me, his eyes suddenly wide as he understood.

"Oh, my… No." He lifted my chin so that I could look into his eyes. "It's nothing like that. Sometimes… We have to do things we don't want to do to stay alive. Sometimes… Sometimes, it's either to kill or to be killed."

"But they…" I sniffed. "They just… just attacked us. Didn't even ask if we have good intentions." I paused for a moment, looking into his eyes as if expecting to find the answers to my problems in there. "Is this the world we live in?"

He didn't answer, looking around in silence. It made me feel endangered.

"What is-" I wanted to ask, but he put a hand on my mouth, silencing me.

He slowly crawled towards a bale of hay. When he was close, a young man – approximately fifteen or sixteen years old – dressed in red Saracen armor ran out of the hay bale with a scream of horror and began running away from us. Altaïr didn't even pretend to think before acting as he reached for his last knife.

"No!" I rasped, my voice getting lost.

The boy fell, a crimson stain growing on his shirt. Altaïr ran to the body and gathered the knife. Normally, I would have understood that, as we were running low on weapons (or, at least, he was, as _I_ didn't need to carry around ten different types of weapons to be happy), but I protested that one time. It wasn't right.

I stared at him, unable to speak.

"Why did you kill him?" I demanded. "He wasn't attacking us! You didn't HAVE TO do it! He was just... running away." My voice cracked.

"To call backup, for sure. He would have come back with more people wanting to put us down." Altaïr said softly, trying to soothe my nerves.

"But still, you don't just kill people! It was. Just. A. Boy!"

"What else did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know! I just know that walking around and killing people is NOT the way to make this world a better place!"

"Wrong. If we are to achieve the peace and happiness for most, some individuals need to be taken care of if their actions are a threat for the happiness of all. Through dealing with a small group of people who do wrong, we achieve peace for generations." He sounded strangely unsure when saying this, as if it was only something he had been taught, but not quite believing in it.

"That's not the way it has to be. Killing... It's wrong. Not in a battle, when it's fair and honorary. But like that, against an unarmed opponent..." The word 'assassination' came to my mind but I didn't doubt the comparison would make Altaïr upset, and that was something I didn't want to do. But still... "This is murder."

"What would _you_ suggest, then?" His voice was defiant.

"I don't know. Dealing with problems like that... worldwide... It wouldn't be enough to just put down a few people whose actions are wrong. There would be more of them, this would never end. The only way to get rid of something is to stop the reason for it being that way. Then why not make sacrifices for that peace? Why not ensure they were safe by reducing the amount of freedom they have? Why not-"

"I don't like where this is going. Sounds too much like..." Altaïr cut me off abruptly, then frowned deeply, drifting off as if he wasn't allowed to - or didn't want to - talk about it. "Doesn't matter anyway."

" _What_ doesn't matter?" I asked, irritated and intrigued at the same time.

"Nothing." He said, looking away. "Let's just… get moving."

I've had enough of that. Secrets… Secrets everywhere. This time, I had to know.

"Who are you?" I asked demandingly, my voice dangerously loud. He looked at me, surprised by the sudden change in my behavior. It was probably reasonable that he didn't understand what I meant, but it just made me angrier Pointing a finger at him, almost accusingly, I said "I've been watching you. You aren't exactly the definition of 'normal', you know. You may want to believe this or not, I don't care, But I've seen you interact with people. You help them out. I don't know if you're doing this just because you want to or if there's another reason, but I've seen the way they look at you. And there is no way you're so blind not to see that. You're their goddamned hero." I don't really swear too much, but that one time, I didn't care for politeness. I just wanted to get my point across. "So I will ask you once again: why are you here?

Instead of answering, he reached into one of his saddlebags, taking out a small scroll. He threw it to me.

"What is his?" I cocked my head at him slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"Your answer," he said calmly, as if ignoring my recent outburst. "Hopefully."

I opened the scroll hesitantly, not knowing what to expect. I stopped, unsure, looking up at Altaïr, probably wanting his permission. He nodded encouragingly.

I stared at the list for a longer while, sure that was not what I had been expecting. It was written in an elegant, precise handwriting which, I suspected, didn't belong to Altaïr himself.

"What is this?" I asked again.

"A… list," he answered obviously. I shot him a look. "A list of people who, as you called it, need to be put down."

I looked at him, not sure what to think.

"So _this_ … This is what you do?" I asked. He nodded. Then, apparently, he noticed my expression because he asked.

"You… knew these people?"

"I _did_ know these people."

"Personally?" He wanted to make sure. My eyes immediately darted to the last name on the list, the one that… Oh, God…

"Some of them." I said unsurely, partly because it was true, and partly because I wouldn't even remember it anyway. Wanting to change the subject to something that wasn't me, I looked at the last name on the list: Robert de Sable. It was the only one that I suspected Altaïr write himself. It wasn't written in ink like the rest, but instead something of a dark crimson color what looked dangerously like blood. The revelation came to me as soon as I realized what it meant. Altaïr was actually _sworn_ to kill someone. A blood-oath, no less. I only wondered why…

"Who… told you to?" I asked softly.

Altaïr huffed, suddenly amused with something.

"You mean 'who forced me to'," he corrected half-seriously.

"Then who…?"

"Malik."

Huh? Well, that was… clearly not the answer I had been expecting. In fact, it seemed so random that I took a step back, surprised.

"Like, _Malik_ Malik? That Malik? I thought you two weren't exactly in the best of terms…"

"That's why." He straightened, suddenly serious. Grabbing his horse's reins, he said "Come on, let's get out of here."

He jumped onto his horse in one swift move. I followed, doing the same thing, only less gracefully.

"What did you mean by 'that's why'?" I asked after a minute of riding.

He sighed heavily.

"It was Robert de Sable that killed Malik's brother." Okay, story time! I straightened in my saddle, taking my hood off as a darker cloud covered the sun.

"That's when he lost his arm," I guessed.

"Yes and no." Altaïr's eyes darkened. "You see, Malik tried to save Kadar until the end. But he couldn't. They were outnumbered; Robert de Sable took three of his men to the ruins beneath Solomon's Temple the exact same day Malik and Kadar went there. The inevitable happened, of course. And Kadar was wounded fatally in the first seconds of the fight." He looked away. "Malik couldn't do anything. His own brother had died in his arms that day. From then on, he was never the same. Never smiled, never laughed. He's been acting almost aggressive… especially towards me."

"I don't understand," I said. "What does this all have to do with you?"

He sighed.

"Malik blames me for Kadar's death, and quite possibly a few other things too. He's convinced it's my fault." Altaïr shook his head sadly. I looked at him.

"And is it?"

"Of course not!" He exclaimed. "I wasn't even there!"

"You… weren't?" I asked, the gears in my mind working at extreme speed. I could recall Malik telling me that the team sent to Solomon's Temple consisted of Kadar and Altaïr. But why would they both deny going there? I doubted they were lying. No. Altaïr? Never. I didn't know Malik well enough to judge him, but he didn't have a _reason_ to lie about that.

"I… don't know," he said hesitantly after a moment of silence. "In fact, all my memories of that day are very blurry. It's like… looking through thick haze." I know the feeling all too well. I have it all the time. "I don't really remember it at all."

Great. Now I have three people with memory problems. "One more and I'll have a full set," I thought, amused.

"What was that?" Asked Altaïr, making me realize I had thought that aloud. I looked at Altaïr, who looked like he was still concerned by the fact that he had amnesia too, even if only partially.

"Nothing." I said, giving him the most reassuring smile I could make. "You were saying?"

=======ooO***Ooo=======

"What am I looking at?" I asked not for the first time in my life and definitely not the last.

"This is Acre," Altaïr explained sadly. "Or what is left of it, at least."

"It's so..."

"Grey, I know."

I looked at him, tired.

"I was going to say depressing."

"That... That actually works too," he admitted. His expression was so pained and full of grieve that I suspected every moment of seeing the city in that state was aching him unbearably.

"You don't like being here," I noticed. He shook his head, his eyes narrowed in a strange fashion.

"No. Not at all. Now come on, let's get you all dressed up."

"Huh?" I looked at him strangely. "What do you even mean by that?"

He looked sadly somewhere far away, beyond the mountains, looking as though he was reliving a painful memory. He began talking, but he wasn't answering my question. I suspected he wasn't even aware of his surroundings at that moment. I saw a single tear in his eye.

"Not so long ago, there was a time when Acre was one of our most important strategic points, the second biggest after Masyaf, along with Tunis and Jerusalem. The latter isn't ours anymore because of other reasons, but the destruction this war brings has been the hardest on Acre. The city has been burned twice." Some of the fires were still ignited, judging by the smoke. "Anyway, the Assassin Order lost much of its ground in the last few years, and the loss of Acre was probably one of the hardest points in the war for us. There were many Assassins in the city when the siege began. They had children with them, families." Oh God... No. "It was truly one of the darkest moments for all of us. That's probably the main reason why not many Assassins dare to venture to Acre anymore, and why, as you called it, I don't like being here. It's... painful."

"I… I understand." I said quietly, almost in a whisper. Because really, what else did I have to say? That I'm sorry? That wouldn't sound very well. In fact, I thought it would sound like I didn't care at all.

"Thank you."

I instantaneously turned my head towards him, suddenly realizing it was the first time I heard him say those words. He wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"You have no idea how much it means to me." He quickly regained his composure. "Anyway, I was going to say that the good times have passed. We are no longer wanted here…" He frowned. "Not that we are wanted anywhere. Frankly, I'm not telling this to the others for the sake of their morale, but the only place where we are as much as tolerated right now is our stronghold at Masyaf.  
"What I'm trying to say is that this is not Jerusalem, or even Damascus. We can't just waltz right into Acre anymore. Even getting past the city gates is going to be a challenge, not to mention actually walking among its citizens for a longer time. That's why I'm going to need your help."

"I'm listening." I leaned in.

"Great. Now, all I need from you is to put those on," he pulled out a couple of rags out of his saddlebags. I didn't even ask where he got them, fearing the answer wouldn't be pleasant. "You're going as a slave, so make sure you look like one."

"…An Assassin's slave?" I asked doubtfully. He threw me the clothes with a smile that couldn't mean anything good.

"Don't worry, I have it all covered!" He claimed, grinning.

Sighing, I took the clothing from him and jumped off my horse, searching for a good place to change.

It almost instantly became apparent that I wouldn't be able to just put those rags on, so I was left with practically only two options: either take off my white robes I didn't even like and then dress in the clothes Altaïr found for me, or put them onto my Assassin clothing, what would technically be the most reasonable thing, but didn't sound very appealing as I would have to suffer unbearable heat.

Resigned, I settled on the second option. After dressing up, I went back to Altaïr. And stopped, staring at him blankly.

"And what, pray tell, are you supposed to be?" I asked once seeing him. He looked… Well, like an Assassin. Or rather, a poor cosplay attempt at one. His weapons were gone (and I didn't even want to ask where he managed to hide them). The same happened to his leather belts and the red sash usually placed underneath them. He looked, in one word, empty.

"I'm a scholar," he answered. I didn't stop looking at him meaningfully. "Alright, I'm _supposed to be_ a scholar. Doesn't matter."

I huffed.

"It does if the guards aren't going to fall for it." I pointed out. Altaïr patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry. They always do."

Oh, I _so_ couldn't believe it. He had actually done that before! I glared at him hatefully, but he pretended not to see it.

"What are we going to do with the horses?" I asked instead.

"You'd better leave them in the stables," he said in an idle voice.

I nearly choked.

"Why me?!"

"Because you are a slave now," he answered with a smirk.

"You are going to enjoy this, aren't you," I grumbled.

"Certainly."

* * *

 **A/N: Aaaaaand that's it – welcome back in the new school year! I hope you all have a lot of strength and courage to survive it because if not… Well, I sympathize with you. I never knew what this was about, but it's a lot easier to write fanfics when school is on. So yeah, considering that I haven't exactly been active lately (I won't even say a word about the Ezio fic, which hasn't been updated for four months), I will update more recently now. Also, don't know if you've noticed, but I extended the length of an average chapter – it's now twice longer! I hope you are satisfied with the story so far, as well as the technical changes I've made.**

 **Now for something different: do you know the word 'seenzoned'? If you don't, I'm going to paste the definition here:**

" _ **seenzoned [in the world of fanfiction] = hits and views with no reviews"**_

 **Don't know about you, but I hate seenzoned! *cough, cough* "Type your review for this chapter here…" *cough, cough***

 **-Wild**


	7. Reputation

**Chapter Seven**  
 **Reputation**

" _If you had the power to put an end to this, to ensure people don't kill each other, power  
that would be enough to stop the crusades… Would you use it? Because sometimes…  
Sometimes, the wisest thing to do is to stay put."_

I couldn't fight the urge to look back as I turned my head towards the sound of metal-clad boots banging against the ground with a silent thud. Another Crusader. I shouldn't be surprised, taking how many of them walking around the streets I saw in the city already, but it was still intimidating. I even had the strangest feeling that I shouldn't show my face in there. Slowly, I began to understand.

I had wanted to understand for quite some time. I didn't. Not until I went to Acre. Then, the pieces finally began to fall into place, for the first time. It wasn't a matter of habit or even liking. This was… survival, in a way. And that was his reason: reputation.

All people have reputations, no matter they know it or not. And those reputations can be a reason for either aversion or respect even before meeting the person we think we know a lot about. Reputation can be good or bad, yes. But, most of all, reputation isn't always true. Sadly, we put too much trust into those reputations, blindly believing in every word we hear. And that isn't always good, no. Reputation can turn a kind, gentle person into a blood-thriving monster. The very same reputation can mean something different for two different people. If I said that I'm an experienced Assassin Hunter, some people would look up to me in respect, while others would run away in fear. Reputation can change our perception of the person without giving them a chance to show their true self. Reputation was what made Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad never take his hood off in public. And, lastly, reputation was what made me want to hide myself the moment I stepped into the city of Acre.

"Stop acting like we are being followed or we really will be," I heard Altaïr hiss to my ear with a warning tone ringing in his voice. I nodded without a word, but that didn't take away the fear eating me out from the inside. Someone would see me and then... Then what? I shuddered, thinking how much easier life would be if I had my memories. But then again, all I was doing was looking for them right now, right?

Well, no. I honestly had no idea what I was doing with my life. Following Altaïr, my friend, while he murdered people throughout the land. Not the most inviting holiday scenario, if you're asking me. I don't recommend.

I realized that if I was going to get somewhere, I had to work out a plan. I had to know what was more important, and what was less. So, first of all, I should really get to work on my self-defense to not get killed during the closest journey. Maybe practice archery, since that seemed to be the thing I was the best at so far. Swordplay turned out to be a bummer, not to mention the hidden blade. Just not my thing. Not exactly, at least. I could use a sword at a slightly higher than just basic level, but that was it. No assassinations I was gonna perform. So yes, some battle training would be on the top of my to-do list. Second of all, I should find a place or a person that would trigger my further memories if I wanted to see more of my past. I was sure that all the memories of my life couldn't just vanish into thin air. They had to be somewhere, if not still buried deep in my mind. That was the first option. The second was to stay with Altaïr, the person who triggered most of my nostalgia moments so far. But, then again, I could combine both options. So far, Jerusalem was my best shot if I had to choose. But then again, there was Malik in there, and I didn't just walk by him either. Not the same nostalgia-bomb Altaïr was, but we had shared memories too. Only he acted different... Perhaps not Jerusalem after all. Then maybe I should go to Masyaf...?

A burning blade of pain slashed through my head, making me shut my eyes closed in pain.

No, not Masyaf. But then again, I didn't even know if that actually was the place where I lived... No. Of course I knew. I suddenly had a strange feeling that I should have asked Altaïr about that before.

"Yesterday..." I began and waited a few painfully long seconds before he finally turned towards me. "I... kind of... remembered something. The village where I used to live - it's called Masyaf."

He didn't spare me another glance, completely unimpressed.

"I already figured that out."

"But... how? Even I didn't know that!" I protested.

He looked at me, shaking his head with his eyes raised to the heavens.

"You really do not know much about the world, do you?"

We walked further in silence. I was still impressed by the fact that Altaïr knew his way through every city we had visited so far. But then again, in Acre, I knew my way around too. At least, I knew how to get to the Assassin Bureau, and that was, clearly, enough. When we got to the building where it was placed, I looked at Altaïr with question.

"I still don't get this whole entrance-on-the-roof thing, you know." I said, trying to begin a conversation. "Not that I don't like climbing from time to time, but I'm a human, not some kind of a goat to be jumping from one rooftop to another."

He didn't answer, studying something that looked like a map. When I looked at it over his shoulder, I noticed that, instead of normal importance points, it had strange things marked on it. Entrances to underground tunnels, Assassin hideouts, even bales of hay. Suddenly, I had the strangest feeling that it had to be Malik who had drawn that map for Altaïr. And I was sure of that.

"What's that?" I asked. He sighed, rolling the map and hiding it in his bag.

"We have trouble."

"When did we not have trouble?" I noticed with a smirk. He smiled a little.

"Good point."

"So, what is the problem?" I asked him.

"We have to find another way in." He explained, but his explanation didn't actually explain anything for me, and he noticed that. "In case you haven't noticed, this city is a little... different than the places we have visited before. Look at all those people." I didn't have to. I knew exactly what he was getting to: "Assassins aren't exactly welcome in here."

"Oh yeah? I didn't notice," I said sarcastically. Altaïr shook his head with an amused huff.

"And I was wondering why you and Malik get along so well," he said.

I hesitated. We get along so well because we have known each other for years, I wanted to say. I didn't. Instead, I stayed silent until we got to the Bureau.

Sighing mentally, I mused in silence. You'll have to tell someone eventually, I told myself but it didn't help. For... how long has it been? ...Days? ...Weeks? The monotony of my life was undermining my mentality, leading to me losing the track of time. Has it really been so short? Sometimes, I felt like it's been years. Sometimes only hours. And all that time, I was dealing with serious problems. I didn't tell anyone other than Altaïr about my amnesia, and even he didn't know the whole truth. He didn't know that I was having dreams (even I didn't know what they were about exactly, so maybe not the best example). But he didn't know that I was having these strange moments of wanting to say something but deciding against it. I don't know if it's clear what I mean, but I didn't know a better way to explain that feeling: the strange itching in the back of my mind, like I remembered I had to remember something, but forgot what exactly. I didn't tell anyone about that. Neither did I tell that I felt wrong every second when I was forced to identify myself as a member of the Assassin Order. It was strange because I was more than sure that I was a part of that very order. Well, no, I wasn't. But Altaïr was completely convinced that I was an Assassin and that should be enough, right? It should be. Then why wasn't it?

Yeah. Talk about confusion.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

"Altaïr, Ismíra!" The rafiq greeted us warmly as soon as we entered. "Come in, come in. I have been expecting you." Me and Altaïr shared slightly surprised looks. "Well, maybe only one of you, but seeing how you always seemed to work together, it shouldn't surprise me you're both here now."

Well, now we were officially confused.

"Did you-" I began, but Altaïr suddenly squeezed my hand with such force that I stopped mid-sentence to curse silently. When I looked at him with shock, he let go of my hand, a warning look in his eyes. I understood the message clearly: do not say anything that you'll regret. I shut my mouth, not wanting to know what Altaïr would do to me if I didn't.

The rafiq didn't seem to notice that as he was still rather optimistic (God, I sure was in a deficit of smiling people. Altaïr, why?) as he carried on with the conversation.

"But do tell me, what bring you here?"

"William of Montferrat. His actions disturb the peace we're trying to achieve. I have to put an end to them." Altaïr explained, his expression sad and serious at the same time. Well, at least he had some compassion in him.

"I understand. What do you need to know to begin?" The rafiq was serious now too.

At that point, I was fighting the urge to throw up. Something was off, definitely off. I tried to focus on what they were talking about, but the heavy, musky stench filling the air was making it hard to concentrate. Strangely enough, neither Altaïr nor Jabal seemed to notice it. And that must've meant it was just me... Wait. Since when did I know the rafiq's name? Something strange was happening to me ever since I entered Acre.

Suddenly, I felt very weak. I didn't want to make myself a trouble, but I couldn't help it and, after a longer moment of fighting with the dizziness, I realized I was fighting a losing battle and gave in in the form of collapsing to the floor.

As the world was spinning (and refusing to stop), it took me slightly longer to notice that I didn't hit the floor like I had expected. Of course. Altaïr caught me. He was asking something, but I didn't know what. My eyelids were heavier than I remembered. I blinked, then fought an internal battle to as much as crack my eyes open. I barely saw anything at all, but I could feel that Altaïr was still holding me. His grip was strong, firm. I held onto that one thing, because it was the only thing that wasn't spinning around in circles, but, slowly, I felt myself losing even Altaïr as I fell into the darkness.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

I opened my eyes to find that I was in a room I had never seen before (not exactly a new feeling), laying on a bed. A bed! How long has it been since I last saw one of those!

Strangely without effort, I sat up on the bed and looked around. As I had expected, I was alone, but it didn't make me feel bad. If anything, I was... happy. I think that's the right word to describe what I was feeling: the strange lightness, like the world was created specially for me. Everything was so beautiful. I looked around in wonder. There was a door right in front of me, leading probably to the Assassin Bureau's main office, but I wasn't in a hurry to leave. In fact, I wasn't in a hurry to do everything. Why would anyone even be in a hurry, I mused. It was so pointless, running around in circles over and over again. It didn't make sense, just as much as killing other people. Why would anyone want to do that? It's so good to live. War was completely pointless. If only people could see how beautiful the world was, maybe they wouldn't do that. Taking someone's life away felt like the worst crime, no matter what they did. There was even a word for that, wasn't there? Oh yes, assassination. Stupid assassins. Stupid Assassins. Stupid Crusaders and stupid Saracens. They were all so foolish, so childish... They didn't see the right way. And it was right there, wasn't it? Why would anyone want to hate anyone else? Make peace, not war, people! Wake up and look around at how amazing the world is!

I looked down at my hands. Clenching them into fists, I laughed quietly. It sounded somewhat maniacally, but I couldn't care less. I could do anything! If I wanted to change the world, I could: I had the power and the courage to do so. And the changes I would make would be good ones, that's for sure! I finally begun to understand the Assassin logic: if I could take care of a few wrong-doing people, I could do it. And I knew just who to begin with-!

NO! I screamed mentally, shoving these thoughts away. Those weren't mine thoughts... I wasn't like that. Shaking my head clear, I looked down at my hands, still clenched into fists, in horror. I couldn't believe I was ready to go and just kill... I drifted off, not wanting to as much as think about it. What happening to me? God, was I having schizophrenia or something?

Suddenly, I felt very anxious about Altaïr. Was he alright...? Of course, he was the best. But even the best of people sometimes have bad luck. Accidents can happen... Was he alright...? He had to be.

I looked around once again, but this time my perception was clear of any vile thoughts. Ahead of me was the entrance to the Bureau's main office. I could find out what happened to me there. Hopefully, Altaïr would be there too.

I stood up from the bed and slowly made my way towards the door. I was much weaker than I felt just seconds before, but I could manage. Not like I haven't been in situations like this before.

My mind exploded in pain and I winced. Welcome back, amnesia, my old friend. Well, good to know at least _that_ didn't change.

I entered the office, a frown upon my face as I flinched slightly. No one was there aside from Jabal, who was working on something in the corner of the room, until he noticed me.

"How do you feel?" He asked, concerned. It was still making me uneasy that he was acting as if we had known each other for years. Then again, wasn't that true? The thing was, I didn't know.

I rubbed my head.

"Still a little dizzy," I answered. "What happened?"

"I'm so sorry about that. I should have known. Although it's mostly Altaïr's fault." He said. I fought the urge to sigh.

"What happened?" I repeated, trying not to sound impatient.

"I'm guessing you haven't been around the city for long before you entered," he said, and I wasn't sure if that was meant to be a question or not.

"No..." I answered, just in case.

"Well, that was a little too fast for your organism. You see, the air in the city is poisoned. As you can see from me and the other citizens, it's not much and it can be easily fought once your organism gets used to it, but it's not good to walk into it too abruptly because your respiratory system doesn't handle the sudden dose of poison. That leads to coughing, slight suffocation and sometimes even loss of consciousness."

Oh. Riiight, that explained everything.

"But you guys were alright," I protested. Jabal shook his head with a smile.

"Ismíra, I live here. I'm used to it. And Altaïr is..." He paused, looking for a right word.

"Altaïr," I suggested.

He laughed.

"Yes, that's probably the most appropriate word."

"So... What did you do?" I asked. "I mean, I felt really strange when I woke up." I didn't mention that I was having some really out of character thoughts.

"Oh, that. Well, do you know the word 'vaccine'?"

"No." I said, my voice flat.

"Well, let's just say that... How to explain this... Through applying to you a small dose of the poison, we can strengthen your immunity to its further effects."

So they... drugged me? That was it?! How dare they! And who the hell calls _that_ medical help?!

"Oh. Right, vaccine. Of course." I said dumbly. Flexing my fingers, I remembered what I came there asking about at all. "Where's Altaïr?"

"Oh, he's gone to the city. He said that he wants to be alone, without anyone following him, yada yada yada." Jabal smiled at me. "I think he just doesn't want you to get hurt."

I snorted.

"Yeah, like _that_ is gonna happen."

"Like what is going to happen?" I suddenly heard Altaïr's voice right next to my ear. I shrieked, jumping away in horror as I (somewhat theatrically) put a hand over my chest.

"Don't do that ever again!" I screamed. "You could have given me a heart attack!"

He shrugged.

"It's your fault if you don't look for any potential enemies."

"It's your fault that you keep sneaking up on me like I'm a potential enemy," I immediately shot back. Altaïr raised an eyebrow on me skeptically. I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, you do."

Jabal, who probably saw a fight coming, interrupted us.

"Altaïr, I hope that your return here means you're finished with your investigation."

With his what now? Well, that was certainly new.

Altaïr nodded, his expression suddenly changing as he bit his lower lip.

"Yes," he answered slowly and warily. "I have indeed finished it. That is, I suppose, when I give you the bad news." He pulled down his hood, something I had never seen him do before. "I can't do this."

...And something I had never heard him say before.

"William is in a well-guarded fortress, has over five hundred men at his disposal, newest war technologies... Far beyond my skills."

"I would doubt _that_ ," I muttered. Unfortunately, loud enough for Altaïr to hear. He scowled.

"I'm not perfect, okay?" He snapped at me in an irritated voice. I backed away, surprised. Why was he suddenly acting so aggressive? It's not like hadn't failed before... Or maybe, that was exactly the case. Either he had never failed before or he had and was afraid of doing that again. Yes, afraid. I knew enough of people to know that aggression isn't always the symptom of anger. That's just human nature: hide the pain or fear under the mask of fake humor or anger. So maybe Malik and Altaïr weren't that different at all.

"...That's not what I meant." I muttered.

"Then what is?" He asked.

Jabal, who had been watching us with growing interest ever since Altaïr took off his hood, suddenly clapped his hands together.

"Of course! Why had I not thought about it earlier?!" He exclaimed. He darted his eyes from me to Altaïr. "You look positively the same!"

"What...?" We said in unison. I scowled, making Jabal brighten up.

"Now it's a perfect match!" He joked. I burst into laughter, while Altaïr looked around, confused.

"Right now, I have the strangest feeling you two are making fun of me." He said in a flat voice.

"Wait a minute." I said, suddenly realizing that I never really learned how I looked. I just didn't care about that enough to check. "Where do you have a mirror?" I asked. Jabal nodded his head towards the door in the corner.

"In the back room."

I literally ran out of the room and dashed towards the large mirror standing in the corner, finally getting a look at my own face.

Saying that me and Altaïr looked similar was an understatement. We had the same hair, the same eyes, the same features... No, we weren't identical - my skin was a shade or two lighter than his, I had (obviously) longer hair and my nose was smaller, but, aside from that, we were almost the same and could be easily mistaken, especially if one of us had a hood over their face... I suddenly understood the rafiq's plan. Good ol' substitution. Because who doesn't like _that_?

I found myself grinning to the mirror. That could be interesting. Unless, of course, Altaïr would want me to make myself a scar to match his. I didn't have one.

Even before I entered the office, I could hear Altaïr and Jabal talking.

"... not be Knights Hospitalier, after what you did," the rafiq was saying.

"Then what are you suggesting I do? Knights Templar aren't going to fall for it." Altaïr sounded uncertain.

"Ismíra will be convincing enough." Jabal ensured him.

"Taking that she agrees." How could he even say that?! Of course I would! Hell, I was ready to jump into flames for that guy!... Well, maybe not literally, but the idea is all that counts.

"She will. Don't doubt her, Altaïr. She saved your life enough times to at least make you believe in her." I did what? Well, _that_ was certainly a new one. It seemed I was going to learn many interesting things about myself in Acre.

I entered the room, trying to keep my face possibly straight. If Altaïr could do that, I could too.

They both fell silent once I stepped through the door.

"Oh, Ismíra. You're here." Jabal said hurriedly. Yeah. Because they were _so_ not hiding anything from me. "Is, uh, everything alright? I mean, you ran out of the room so fast, we were worried."

"Everything's alright," I lied. "I'm more concerned about it being alright for you." I was looking at Altaïr.

He leaned over a small table I didn't notice earlier with a map of the city laying on it. I followed him, curious.

"I found two weak points of the defense system. One of them is the renovation of the right wing of the fortress. I'd rather avoid going there, but I can do that if I have to. The second is the main entrance - I mean the most guarded gate in the castle. Because, ironically, that means it will be the most vulnerable to any infiltration." I looked at him, awestruck at how different he sounded, and acted, once he was in his strategical mode. I understood why his rank in the Brotherhood was so high - he would be a great commander. I noticed the fire in his eyes as he talked, and when he looked up at me with trust. "And now, I have a plan. And you are going to help me."

"What do you need me to do?"

* * *

 **A/N: Dun-dunnn! Prepare for awesomeness in the next chapter! Remember when I said that a lot of stuff is going to happen soon? Well, the last two chapters were a prologue for that, and the real action of this story is only about to begin – really soon. Also, remember when you played the game and there was that mission, 'fortress infiltration'? I didn't really like the way it went, mainly because it was obviously too much for one man to pull off, even if that man was Altaïr.**

 **Okay, normally I would've said I'm gonna be quick, but not this time, as I have several things to say (or rather, write) under this chapter.**

 **First of all, I'm completely sorry you had to wait for so long! I know it was nothing compared to before, but I still feel bad for not delivering this chapter to you guys sooner. More so because I've had it written for a week now, but I was out of the town so I couldn't publish it. But don't be sad! I have not forgotten about you! I'm already almost halfway through the next chapter, so do not fret! It will soon appear!**

 **Second of all, a little more than a month ago, I posted a little contest-like-thingy under this story. The contest question wasn't too hard: "Who is Ismira? – original theory" and I was overwhelmed by the amount of auditions* I received (even though most of them were from one person), both in the reviews for this fic and as PMs. Well, now the big moment has come: time to see the results!**

 **Initially, I wanted to only choose one, the best, theory, but the enormous amount of them made me want to extend that to three. In the end, I only chose two theories because those two- Well, they are ultimately crazy and outwardly strange, but still the most original.**

 **The second place goes to tiger0237 for his (her?) theory that Ismira is, and I quote, "Altaïr from an alternate, genderbend reality". Don't know what inspired you to come up with** _ **this**_ **, Tiger0237, but it's really abnormal. Props, dude (or gal if you're a girl)!**

 **The first place goes to oochya for her (it's a safe guess, I assume. If you're a guy, sorry) theory that Ismira comes from the future (or rather, now) and she transported back in time while cosplaying – that would explain the Assassin clothing, actually. Okay, this one is really crazy. Really, what do you people do to come up with things like that?**

 **Now, listen up! If your theory didn't win this contest (which, most probably, it didn't), it doesn't make it any less valuable or interesting than the others. I just decided to share those two with you guys because they were completely insane. Really, I received so many interesting theories it's hard to include them all in this Author's Note (which is already too long, but who cares)… And, right.**

 **About** _ **that**_ **.**

 **I feel really bad about actually admitting this, but one of the theories you guys sent me (that person knows who I'm talking about) was almost exactly accurate with how it really was in this fic. Now, I have actually no idea what to do about this because I honestly didn't even think that could happen. And I want to ask that person (where 'that person' means 'oochya') not to share that theory with the others. I just don't want to spoil all the fun for you guys, and I would prefer it if you discover the truth along with the main character. It's much better that way, believe me.**

 **Well, if you somehow read through all of that, congratulations! Here, take a virtual cookie from me.**

 **As always, faithfully yours.**

 **-Wild**

* * *

 ***is that the right word? I don't know -,- Still learning English, I guess.**


	8. Past Regrets

**Chapter Eight  
Past Regrets**

 _"I had sworn to never hurt an innocent. I didn't keep that promise. Nor did I keep many others like it. I had  
sworn to never betray my Order. I had sworn to live by the tenets of the Assassins' creed.  
I was a goddamned fool."  
_

"Remind me why did I agree to this," I asked Altaïr while he strapped the heavy Templar armor on my back, covering the white clothing of a Master Assassin underneath it.

"Because I gave you no choice?" Altaïr guessed. I winced when he pulled on an especially tight string.

I didn't reply.

"Alright, I think that's it," he said to me after a moment.

I flinched, drawing myself up as I looked at my new clothing critically.

"This stuff is way too heavy," I complained. Altaïr shrugged, dusting his robes.

"They don't make lighter ones."

I eyed him skeptically, setting my eyes on the hood of his outfit.

"Are you gonna put that on?" I asked. He nodded, covering his head with the hood. I barely spared him a glance before deciding "You look terrible."

"Really?" He said in a provoking tone.

"Yeah. I finally understand the white - grey _so_ doesn't suit you." I told him before looking in the general direction of Acre. "Are we ready for this?"

"How do _you_ feel?" Altaïr asked. I looked into the horizon.

"Let's go," I decided.

As we headed back to the city, I realized that I agreed to be pulled into a plan that had no chance of going right. What did I think I was doing? I wasn't Altaïr to go on a field mission like that. I didn't have the experience for that... I halted as I suddenly realized something.

"I am stupid," I moaned. Altaïr looked at me curiously.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know how to fight. I know how to use a hidden blade and how to fight with a sword." I didn't mention that I was even good at that. "I spent many years on learning these things and on training."

"Then why do you not use those skills?" Altaïr asked. I raised my eyes to the heavens, leaning my head back. I breathed in.

"Because I have forgotten how to," I answered.

"But that doesn't even-" He tried to say, but I stopped him.

"It does. That's the problem. I can do things instinctively, but I lack theoretical knowledge. All this time spent on training... That all went in vain." I suddenly realized how much I have lost. Not just my memories, not material things. It was my life. Time. I had lost twenty-five years. Twenty-five. It was hard to even get the idea of how long that was. More so because that time had been taken away from me. Stolen. I looked down, gritting my teeth. Altaïr only looked away.

"There isn't a cure for amnesia," he said softly. I shut my eyes because they suddenly felt wet.

"I know."

I felt someone grab my hand comfortingly. I looked up at Altaïr, surprised.

"We will figure it out... _I_ will figure it out." He said, looking into my eyes. "I promise."

"You don't have to," I opposed.

"I do." He grabbed both of my hands with one of his, still not breaking the eye contact. "Even if only for you, because that is enough of a reson for me."

My throat felt dry as I gulped.

"Thanks." I said, my voice hoarse.

"You are welcome." At last, he looked away. "Really, it's nothing."

I laughed.

"You're a terrible liar."

He wanted to say something, but I hushed him, because we were getting closer to the city gates, and I was sure that a Crusader talking with his prisoner would raise suspicions. Altaïr understood and shut his mouth, stooping slightly as he took a more hopeless appearance. I had to restrain myself from grinning as I thought that it would be my best chance to get back at him for that slave thing he pulled off recently.

The guards didn't stop us, even though they looked at the captive Assassin with a touch of shock. I smiled mentally, amused at that. _Looks like the Assassin Order surely has quite a reputation._ Reputation. But was that reputation enough to make an Assassin look like an invincible opponent? As much as I could see the advantages of that reputation, it seemed somewhat wrong to scare people like that. I wasn't sure what I meant by that, but I was sure that if I could, I would change it. People didn't have to fear the Assassins just because they were mysterious and inscrutable. It didn't feel right.  
 _Maybe it's the time for things to change?_

I had no idea how true those words would turn out to be.

=======ooO***Ooo=======

"Peace, soldier," I said in a calming voice as the young knight quickly strode to his spot as a guard upon seeing us. "I'm just taking this prisoner to Sir William."

All the while, I was scanning our surroundings with precision, looking out for any sight of trouble and trying to remember as many details as possible - I knew that knowledge could prove itself useful later. The young Hospitalier was the only man guarding that gate, which filled me with as much surprise as irritation. Altaïr was overreacting; he could handle this on his own just fine.

"I do not know anything about this transfer," said the knight, but his voice was so uncertain that I thought it wouldn't take much to convince him.

"Too bad, because you obviously should." I stated coldly. "Or need I tell your commanding officer how you fulfil your duties?"

His pupils shrank as he shook his head in fear.

"No, please, you don't have to," he stammered.

"Open the gate." I ordered.

"Y-yes, right away, ma'am," he said, quickly turning the mechanism's reel.

As the gate slowly opened, I stole a look at my 'prisoner'. Altaïr was amazingly calm, looking at everything with disdain. He noticed me looking at him and raised his eyebrows in a silent question: "What was that?" I had no idea what he meant, but the confusion in his eyes seemed real. I shrugged to show him that I didn't know what he meant. The look he gave me after that was priceless.

"Thank you very much," I said, trying to purge my voice of the slightest hints of sarcasm. I was trying my best to keep a straight face, but the armor I was dressed in was itching unbearably and with every second it was harder for me to fight the urge to scrap it off myself. _Just one more minute_ , I kept on telling myself. _I can survive one minute._ As the itching returned, I couldn't help but add _Probably._

We walked through the gate, and it closed with a thud as soon as we entered the castle.

"Well, that was nice," I noticed.

Altaïr only shook his head.

"What was that about?" He asked.

"What was what about?" I asked in return.

"What did you tell him?" He precised. "And where did you learn that language?"

That question caught me completely off-guard. Of course I knew that I was talking with the guard in a foreign language, but it seemed so instinctive that I didn't give it a second thought, and that was probably why I was so surprised at the fact that Altaïr did.

"You mean English?" I wanted to make sure. Altaïr shrugged.

"English, French, German, Latin, whatever you call it." He didn't sound like he cared at all. "The language of the Crusaders."

I was still wrapping my head around the idea of speaking only one language.

"Are you trying to say that you do not know English?" I asked, furrowing my brows. He shook his head. "Latin?" This time, his expression spoke for itself. "Not even Turkish?"

"Nope," said Altaïr. "And what about you?"

Just where was he headed with that?

"Obviously, Arabic. Also English - that's my second main language," I was telling the truth, as I knew English as good as Arabic, "German, Latin, and a few French phrases."

"And you never wondered where did you learn those?" He asked. "That's a lot for one person. And the languages you mentioned aren't exactly easy to be taught around here."

"I know." I sighed. "I guess I just never gave it a second thought."

"It's okay," it sounded actually more like a question, but I was almost sure Altaïr was just trying to cheer me up. Ironic, considering what we were about to do. "It's not like I'm saying you are a Crusader or something. I just noted it's hard to learn English around here."

I shook my head, wanting to get rid of these thoughts.

"Never mind. Let's just... carry on with your mission, shall we?"

I looked around. The closest building with an open door was something that looked like a stable. I cocked my head in its direction questioningly. Altaïr nodded and and soon we found ourselves locked inside. I couldn't help but sigh in relief as I got myself out of the armor, which was not comfortable at all.

"I don't get people who can survive the whole day in this," I thought aloud. Altaïr smirked.

"If I recall correctly, you don't get all kinds of people."

Even though I really wanted to say something at that, I couldn't find a right retort, so I stayed silent.

"Alright, this is it." I said. I was feeling actually weak before the mission, and not only because I was putting my life in much more danger than Altaïr, but because I was having that strange feeling that something was off, and I didn't like it at all. "Isn't it?"

"It is." Altaïr said, putting his hand on the knob, willing to open the door once I was ready. "But I'm once again saying this: you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I will understand if you step down now."

I didn't even think about it.

"If I got this far, I might as well go all the way, no?" I smiled broadly, showing a lot more confidence than I was feeling. "Now let's get to it while I'm still willing to."

He nodded without a word and led us outside. Surprisingly, we went by unnoticed for quite a while, until Altaïr stopped me with a gesture of his hand.

"Alright, now you're going to turn right. That way, you should get to the main part of the courtyard. You know what to do then."

I nodded to show him that i understood.

"And you?"

"Just look around," a smile showed on his face as if he recalled something pleasant. "After all, I'll be a blade in the crowd."

Even though I didn't understand that at all, I nodded and set off in the direction shown me by Altaïr.

Finding a large group of people didn't prove itself to be a challenge, as the main yard was filled with so many people that I actually felt anxious about entering it. Maybe it was the fact that most of them had standard Crusader armor and weapons, and I was just an Assassin with no combat skills at all, and maybe not, but I still felt terribly out of place. I knew I should, but it didn't feel right. I also knew that I was taking too long and that it wouldn't take much time before someone noticed me, but I couldn't take that next step. I just didn't have the courage. I knew that once I got myself unrevealed, I would have to run for my life, and that I wouldn't be able to make that run. Then why? Why was I even there?

I looked up and I remembered why. There was an eagle circling the highest tower in the area - probably because its nest was there or something else like that - but I didn't care about what it was doing, more concerned about the bird itself. Eagle was good, right? It meant something, only I couldn't recall what exactly. I just knew that it was good, and that I shouldn't be afraid. For exactly where the bird's shadow fell, Altaïr was crouching, just on the edge of the roof, prepared to jump down into the crowd on my signal. I wasn't alone.

 _Just look around._

Oh! I understood.

There was a clear path through the crowd, a soldier patrolling it every now and then. It led perfectly to the center of the commotion. I smiled as I looked farther, not even caring that I shouldn't be able to see that far. I could see the path, and on it many advantages for me. There was a merchant selling fruits. A haystack only a few feet farther. All of that leading to the place Altaïr was headed. So a change of plans. Altaïr had told me to run as far as my legs would take me and not get caught. I had a better idea.

 _Here goes!_

Knocking several people off, I quickly made my way towards the nearest soldier, already extending my right pinky finger to open the hidden blade as I neared him.

And I froze.

It wasn't one of the Hospitaliers. The red cross on his chestplate said that much. But not only that; it brought memories to me. Voices of the past.

 _"I can barely believe it." I was less surprised at it being Altaïr's voice than at the fact that it was dripping with irony. "Knights Teutonic?"_

 _"It's Knights_ Templar _." A younger version of my voice responded to him sternly. Images flashed in my head: a battlefield, then a castle, the city of Jerusalem, a dark forest, a steppe, and a ship on the sea. Memories. But why didn't they want to make sense? What did they mean?_

I shook my head abruptly, suddenly aware of my surroundings. The Templar hadn't noticed me yet, but it was a matter of seconds. I had to be faster than that. With taught perfection, my left hand went up to cover his mouth as I stabbed him in the back with the hidden blade.

Everything went down quicker than I thought.

"Murder!" I heard the shouts. "Catch the Assassin!"

Well, here goes the next part!

I ran away from the soldiers, who were now very much intent on catching me. I didn't even have the time to check if Altaïr was still sitting up there as I ran by the house, but I knew that he was already on the ground, taking advantage of the commotion I had caused. I didn't have the time to think about him either, though, as the men chasing me were getting nearer. The moment I was passing the merchant's stall, I took too took the advantage of my surroundings and kicked it down. Lemons, oranges and grapefruits spilled on the road, several of the soldiers slipping on them and buying me just enough time to take the first turn left and jump into the stack of hay just by the corner. I waited only a few seconds after they ran past me before I jumped out of it, but I was pretty sure it was enough.

I was about to go back the way I came from, but halted as I heard the sound of many heavily armored people approaching. Listening for a second, I counted. Four... five... six dozens?! That's a lot of people! I turned on heel and almost immediately dived again into the hay. From there, I watched the soldiers pass. Why were there so many? Was their commander so stupid to send all his men after an Assassin? If that was the case, it wouldn't help him anyway, as that Assassin was already inside of the fortress.

I waited for another minute or so, painfully aware of how precious that time was, before I once again decided to leave the haystack. Looking around, I decided that I preferred it when there were many soldiers marching around than the emptiness that followed. It was somewhat distressing.

Anxious, I silently walked in the direction of the main courtyard. It was strange to see it empty minutes after walking through the crowd gathered there.

I stirred, suddenly realizing something.

I wasn't alone.

"Bravo, Ismira. Bravo." The voice was mocking. I didn't like it - even more so because I knew who it belonged to. "You really did a good job this time."

"William," I hissed with hate, turning to face him. "You've got a lot of nerve to even try to talk with me after what you have done."

That memory was still vivid: mainly emotions, but the main idea of what happened was clear enough.

 _Denial. Shock._

 _It couldn't be happening._

 _"Fuck, no... Altaïr..."_

 _Blood. Wet, sticky and warm - blood on my hands. It wasn't mine._

 _Loss. Pain - not physical, but emotional, even worse._

 _Then, rage._

 _"Do you have any idea WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" The voice - my voice - was filled with so much grief, so much despair and pure hatred that I could barely stand hearing it._

 _"Hold on, Altaïr..." I was crying now. "I will fix you... I promise."_

 _Then, through the tears:_

 _"I am going to kill you for what you did! I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS!"_

I shook my head, trying to clear my perception and figure out which of the voices existed for real and which only in my head.

"Do you really think you can kill me now?" William asked with a smirk. He was making fun if me. I didn't like it. Unsheating my sword, I looked him in the eyes and then put it on the ground.

"I've come here to talk," I said, even though my voice sounded so threatening that it didn't match to the words at all.

"To talk," he repeated mockingly. "So I guess that's why you've come here... Killing my people, causing chaos... It sure didn't take you that long to become a murderer, did it?"

I opened my mouth, at a loss of words. I had no idea how to answer that.

"It's not..." I said weakly, but it sounded like I was just excusing myself. "I'm not..."

"Oh, surely. Now tell me, how many people are dead of you today, Ismira? How many have you murdered?" He smiled viciously. "Or would you prefer the word assassinated?"

"I..." I hesitated. "I'm not..."

"Of course you're not. Although... I understand that what happened must have been a shock for you, to say the least, but to go running to the Assassins?" William smirked. "Not the best choice of allies, if you're asking me."

I didn't understand.

"Oh, it's priceless!" He laughed. "You actually don't regret it! It didn't take you that long to become a coldblooded monster, now did it, Ismira?"

Suddenly, he seemed to choke on the air. He coughed. With blood. As William of Montferrat slowly fell to the ground, I finally noticed the Assassin who was standing behind him.

"I'm sorry," said Altaïr, but his voice was completely free of emotions. "He was really getting on my nerves."

"Thanks." I said, astonished at how mad Altaïr must've been to just stab one of his targets. He didn't even get a confession. He just killed him for the sake of... killing him.

"Now let's go!" He said. I nodded, already following him as he took off, running and climbing up the nearest wall. We ran on the rooftops, jumping from one building to another. Although I had been afraid of falling several times, I somehow always managed to do the right jump. I also noticed that I was faster than Altaïr while sprinting, but he had a better condition, so I had to slow down after two or three minutes of running like that. Thankfully, Altaïr understood and didn't push me to keep up with him, instead adjusting to my pace.

We came to a stop on a taller building, looking around.

"Don't you think it's strange they haven't found the body yet?" I asked. "Shouldn't there be..." My words were cut off by the sound of ringing bells, making me roll my eyes at the amazing timing I had. "... an alarm?"

"Great." Altaïr said, looking over his shoulder and back at from where we came. "Now we will never get out of here."

I looked down at the streets below us and the people running back and forth on them. There was no way we could make it to the main entrance now, not to mention that it would probably be guarded by at least ten men anyway. But then I remembered something else.

"You mentioned something about a renovation of the left wing of the castle?" I asked, hope in my voice.

"Yes, I did... And we could use the scaffolding to climb down the walls..." Altaïr looked at me with new respect. "You're smart."

I smiled.

"I know."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I know what I said: 'it will be updated very soon'. And it was updated soon...ish. Okay, I will not try to explain myself and say 'my computer was broken' (even though it's vastly true) or that 'I have been going through a hard time', which are the cliché FF writer's excuses, and instead I will tell you guys the truth: I was simply too lazy to get this thing written. I've had half of it ready anyway, but I have been holding it back while I could, instead focusing on my YouTube channel (if you haven't subscribed to me yet, do it, I make lots of professional AC things there), and then, when I did have the courage to write, I had a HUGE writer's block, so big that I couldn't actually write _one word_. But, as you see, it's over and I'm back.**

 **Oh yes, and I've changed the story's summary. If you know me already, you know that this is gonna happen many times, before I'm satisfied with it. And that usually takes long. And it means many changes. And I mean _many._**

 **And no, I will not promise you that a next chapter appears soon, because I already know that it will not work. But I can promise to you that I will _try_ to write another chapter fast. Sorry, but that's all you're gonna get right now.**

 **Peace!**

 **-Wild**


	9. Seclusion

**Chapter Nine  
** **Seclusion**

 _"Even the greatest people have their flaws. And when put under pressure or in the right  
_ _circumstances, those flaws can become cracks. They can break you."_

I looked out the window, sighing quietly and breaking the silence that had managed to fall in the room. Altaïr barely spared me a glance before going back to polishing one of his knives. Jabal didn't even bother look in my direction.

It was fair to say that we were trapped inside the Assassin Bureau, as none of us could leave the building without exposing themselves to very possible death. The assassination of William of Montferrat didn't go by unnoticed by any means - the city was closed, every single person who tried to walk in or out being turned down. The guards were searching for Assassins all the time - I could sometimes see them through the window, walking around with boredom at the monotony of their task. I thought that, in a way, it was as boring for them as it was for me. Only they weren't trapped in a room with two people, both of which they had a very complicated relationship with.  
I was.

Boredom does different things to people. Some give in and let it take over them, while others do their best to find something entertaining to do. Some use the time they have for thinking about many different things, while some prefer to use it to do the work they haven't done yet. From the look of things, we were all very different kinds of people, the three of us.

Altaïr, who was silently sitting in the corner, was killing time by sharpening and polishing his whole armament. Not only he wasn't very eager on talking, but also gave me threatening looks every time I tried to begin a conversation. I decided that keeping my mouth shut was probably the best thing to do.

Jabal was silently writing something - as I suspected, a letter for Al-Mualim in Masyaf with our current situation described. If I was right, then it was no wonder that he was so quiet. The catch was that Altaïr had actually told him _not to_ write to Masyaf for now, at least until it was very bad. It kind of figured that he wouldn't listen.

I was sitting by the window and silently watching the people on the streets interact with each other.

The only sound that could be heard were the quick moves of the pen Jabal held as he wrote.

I was thinking.

I was thinking about numerous things, mainly wondering about my 'conversation' with William, which, instead of answering them, only spawned more questions. Why did he act like he knew me? Why did _I_ act like _I_ knew _him_? Why did he act like I had done something wrong? Why did he try to make me feel bad about it? _Why did he success?!_ I had to stop thinking about it. It wouldn't do me any good to ponder if I wasn't going to actually do anything to unravel the mystery that my past was. So I directed my thoughts towards other places, where they would not be disturbed by the worrisome events of the past day. I thought about other things instead - from subjects as mere as when (or rather, whether) we would get something to eat, to things as practical as the choice of my new weapon. No matter what I thought about, I still couldn't get the boy I had murdered out of my head. I knew that he would haunt me for long. Why was I having regrets about it? It wasn't the first time I had killed someone. Yes, I knew that it's different when you strike the killing blow on an enemy who challenged you to a duel and when you sneak up on someone and silently stab them in the back, but isn't it the same in the end? The effect is identical: one person is dead and the other is guilty of killing them. The only difference is that, in the first case, they at least have a chance to defend themselves, to die honorary. They don't if you just assassinate them. I felt wrong for having committed such act, even though I was sure I had done it before. Then why did I feel remorse at what I had done? Why couldn't I get his image out of my head? I suddenly realized that I was trying to guess how old he was. Surely much younger than me. Eighteen, nineteen years old? He was too young to be married yet, wasn't he? He couldn't have a family. I tried not to think about the image of a young woman with infant children clutching at her clothes, receiving the information of the death of her husband thousands of miles away from home. I really had to stop thinking about it. I was about to go insane if I didn't. I told myself that everything was fine. But if everything was fine then why was I having regrets about what happened? I had killed a member of the Templar Order...

I closed my eyes as I felt something pang in my heart.

So _that_ was what it was about.

I still had no idea what it meant exactly, but I knew enough about the Crusaders to know they weren't bad people. I had seen it first-hand. But that wasn't the kind of knowledge I needed to unravel that mystery. I needed theoretical knowledge with detailed military data, not moral reasoning. What did I know about the Crusaders and their military orders? I focused, trying to get my memory to work rightly and give me the information I wanted.

There were three main orders: Knights Hospitaller - the biggest, Knights Templar - the eldest, and Knights Teutonic - the richest. I had a strange feeling I had encountered all of them in the past, but I decided to focus on the one that was important for me right now.

Knights Templar - or rather the Order of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, as their official, full name sounded - were the first military order established to protect the pilgrims coming to the Holy Land from Assassins and other terrorists, later turning into a military service for all the Crusaders alike. From what I could remember, they mainly collaborated with Knights Teutonic - those two orders seemed to be virtually inseparable. The Templars, even though technically an international project, consisted mainly of French noblemen - which shouldn't surprise me. Knights Teutonic were German, Knights Hospitaller were Spanish and Knights Templar were French.

Knights Templar... Knights of the Temple... The Temple of Solomon... Yet again I encountered that name. Where have I heard it before? Who said it? Oh yes, it was Malik. What did he say? Something about the downfall of a hero or something like that... Altaïr, on the other hand, told me that Malik and his brother went there on some kind of mission - even though I forgot what it was exactly - and that they encountered there no one else than... the Knights Templar. Again. Everything was connected, somehow linked to me too. And the name that was mentioned the most frequently was Knights Templar.

But why were they so important?

I once again gazed out the window. The guards weren't there anymore, so I settled on watching the citizens interact with each other. It wasn't the most entertaining task in the world, but it was something that would keep me sane. I really, really wanted to say something that would break the silence, but when I opened my mouth to do so, Altaïr looked at me like he wanted to eat me, so I shut up, yet again covering us in a blanket of quietness.

Sighing again, I decided that I would leave the silence alone, as I wouldn't stand a chance against it anymore. I didn't have anything else to do, so I went back to watching the citizens pass by.

oooOOO***OOOooo

"Do you want some tea?" Jabal offered. I looked up, my eyes sparkling with excitement - I wasn't sure whether it was the thrill of having a drink that was not water or the chance to have a conversation.

"White, please." I said with gratitude, while Altaïr politely, but sturdily, dismissed.

"And do you want something to eat?"

"Save it," Altaïr advised. "You don't know how long are we going to be trapped here."

After he said that, the mood that was for a moment happier, once again fell, afresh leaving us feeling down and bleak.

Even when I received my cup of tea (it was very hot!) and slowly sipped it down, I didn't feel any better. Altaïr was right. We were going to be trapped there for God knew how long, and that wouldn't get me any closer to resolving my personal mystery. Not that I was in a hurry to do it, but... Something was wrong. I already suspected that something big was going on, but my encounter with William of Montferrat proved that it was linked to me in a way stricter than I would be comfortable with. The Assassins, the Templars, even Altaïr and Kadar... that all went to being just another factor of the mystery. A mystery that, I had to remark, I wasn't even close to solving. So many elements were still covered in darkness. I would have to try harder if I wanted to get farther. But for now, I couldn't.

For now, I was trapped inside the Assassin Bureau.

oooOOO***OOOooo

I was bored. As I looked about, I could see that was not only my problem: Altaïr was clearly done with his weapons, as all he was doing was inspecting his fingers with a tired expression. Jabal was organizing everything on his desk, clearly bored with the task.

I was playing with my hidden blade, watching it work as I extended and hid it over and over again.

 _Swoosh._ It worked swiftly, without flaws.

"Watch out for your fingers with that thing," Jabal advised.

Altaïr gave him a dark look.

"That is _not_ funny." He said sternly.

 _Swoosh_. The blade extended once again.

 _Swoosh_. It swiftly found its place back in the sheathing.

"Just stop this already," Altaïr said, sounding irritated. "You're going to destroy the spring mechanism."

I perked up at that.

"Spring mechanism?" I asked, curious.

"I hope I needn't explain you the built of a hidden blade." Altaïr said with a roll of his eyes.

I sighed.

"You could."

He looked at me, eyes narrowed.

"But I don't have to, do I?" He said angrily. I looked away.

"No, but you could."

The tension in the air was growing as we slipped into silence again.

oooOOO***OOOooo

An Assassin dropped from the roof entrance with a silent thud (again confirming my suspicions that Altaïr's amazingly good stealth was not the average for Assassins) and backed one step away once he saw the way we were all staring at him - me and Jabal with expectancy and hope, while Altaïr with something more akin to clear disdain than anything else.

I couldn't hold it back anymore as I finally got out: "Just tell us what's up already!"

He shook his head - probably just to clear his mind, but his expression told me that it was a negative answer to my question too.

"The city's on lockdown; most probably it will not change during the next few days, if we're lucky."

I groaned.

"Great!" I sarcastically said to myself. "Just great! Exactly what I need right now!"

Right then, what I needed to do was to go to Jerusalem to see Malik. There were some things that I didn't understand, and I would only be able to learn about them if I got the whole image of what happened in Solomon's Temple. I knew that was important. It had to be, it was the only lead I had. And to get the whole image of what happened, I had to learn both sides of the story, not just one. Besides, I needed to confirm one particular suspicion of mine...

Altaïr looked at me with what could as well be fake or true concern.

"I'm fearing you might be slipping into madness here," he said - from his emotionless voice, I couldn't tell if he was being serious. I looked at him, silently thinking whether I should reply sarcastically or not. After a moment, I decided against replying at all.

Thankfully, both Jabal and the other Assassin left that without a comment. The latter silently walked up to the desk and put something on it, but from where I was sitting, I could not see what it was. I only saw that it made Jabal sadden as he took it and hid in a drawer. He sighed.

"I'm guessing we'll just have to wait it through." He said, then looked between the three of us, finally realizing how awkward the situation was. He exhaled deeply. "Ismira, Altaïr, this is Arif." He gestured to the Assassin who had just taken off his hood. From what I could estimate, he could have been approximately five years older than me. "Arif, these are Altaïr and Ismira."

Arif bowed his head to Altaïr in a gesture of respect.

"I have heard a great deal about you," he said, after a split-second of afterthought adding "Master." Altaïr only looked away.

"Mostly bad things, I'm certain," he said, not even bothering to try and pretend he cared. To my relief, Arif apparently wasn't of those who easily get offended, for he didn't seem to take Altaïr's tone to heart.

"Just the opposite, to be honest. You are a man of legend." Even though I wasn't even following the conversation anymore, that particular comment made Altaïr uneasy as he stiffened for a second.

"Legends," he snorted scornfully before leaning over to Arif. "May I give you a piece of good advice?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Don't believe in everything you hear."

The older Assassin narrowed his eyes.

"But were you not the one that-" He stopped, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked. "You seem to be in a lot of pain."

"I am fine," Arif dismissed with a fake smile that even I could see through. "It is just a minor cut."

That immediately set Jabal worried as he sternly asked "Where?"

With a defeated sigh, Arif waved a hand around his abdomen. True enough, I could spot a growing crimson stain on his clothes in the said place which I didn't see before as I took it for just a part of his clothing. White and red are not the most practical colors by any means...

My eyes widened as I realized something. White and red. I only knew two fractions that used these colors as their symbol - the Assassins and... Exactly. The Templars. From what I knew, it could be just a coincidence, but it didn't seem so because, now that I looked on it, there were several other similarities between the two orders. Both of them had the same principles: don't ever intentionally hurt an innocent, do your best to support our cause, do not fight those who are weaker than you... And what did they fight for? World peace, in both cases. How did they work to achieve it? Killing.  
However wrong might it not appear to me, killing seemed to be the essential of both these fractions. But still, I could not help but see just how pointless it was that both the Assassins and the Templars killed each other. Could they not see that they would never reach the peace they oh so strived for if they continued to fight? Why couldn't they just leave each other alone?  
Why?

"Ismira, come here and help me," Jabal said, bringing me back to reality.

"...Yes?" I asked, unsure of what was going on as I wasn't paying much attention.

"Give me a hand here," he explained, nodding his head towards the door to the back room.

I looked at Altaïr unsurely. _Should I go?_

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but nodded. _Just be careful._

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite everything. _Aren't I always?_

He looked away with a huff.

"Of course," I said aloud, going into the back room where I found that the table had been cleaned of everything that once laid on it to make it act as an operating table for now. Arif, who was sitting on it the moment I came in, looked at me strangely.

"Does she have to be here?" He asked.

"Do not complain," Jabal said dismissively as he entered the room. "She's a medic." I tried to hide how surprised I was. Medic. Another word to add up to the list of things to call myself.

Arif muttered something more about trust, but I couldn't hear what it was. He looked at me curiously.

"Then what can you tell me right now?"

I crossed my arms on my chest, fixing him with a glare.

"That if you had that wound of yours a few inches higher, you would be missing a rib right now."

After that, Arif shut up. He didn't even protest when Jabal offered him a painkiller - a dose that, I could see, was more than enough to be called a dope. True enough, he soon drifted off into rather peaceful sleep.

In complete silence, both me and Jabal began to treat his wound. My hands almost mechanically did the right things, choosing the appropriate medicaments and applying them on the unconscious Assassin's body. I kind of only went through the motions, as that was something I had dealt with many times before. Now that I looked on it, it actually made sense - the typical superficial cut wound, a very common injury if one lives their life the same way most Assassins do. It just figured I had encountered it before, especially considering I was supposedly a physician.

"Ismira?" Jabal said casually, but from the tension in his body I could guess he was far from being relaxed. "Did you and Altaïr get into a fight again?"

...Oops?

"What makes you think that?" I asked, trying to focus on my job rather than look at him.

Jabal didn't answer for a moment, concentrating on cleaning Arif's wound.

"You don't talk to each other."

Oh, great. And how was I supposed to answer to that? I didn't know how me and Altaïr interacted with each other before our memory loss. For a moment, I considered telling Jabal the truth, but then I remembered the way Altaïr looked at me moments earlier. Why didn't he want me to ask? That was rather suspicious from his side, wasn't it? Suspicious. That was it. _You can't trust anyone._ How could I know if I could trust Jabal? Now that I looked on it that way, the way he acted towards the two of us: so friendly, so careless... It was suspicious too. Was he always like that? Or was that just an act?

I shook my head.

 _I can't suspect everyone around of being the one who caused me all this misery. That way, all I will get will be distrust and no actual information at all._

"It's a hard time for everyone" was the only response I could think of that wouldn't raise suspicions.

Jabal nodded thoughtfully.

"Could you pass me that roll of gauze?" He questioned. I gave him what he asked for without a word.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"The wound?" He pretended not to understand. I gave him a long look which, honestly, he could interpret in many different ways.

"You know what I'm talking about." Yet again I averted my gaze not to look directly at him.

"It's not good." He sighed. "I don't think there will be much to save."

I fell silent, tending to Arif to keep my hands busy while I thought.

Finally, I got myself to ask at least one of the questions that were cramped inside of my head.

"Do you know what happened to Malik Al-Sayf?"

Jabal's eyes darkened.

"That's not a happy story," he said seriously. I bit my lip before answering.

"I already figured _that_ out."

"What can I say? You probably know the most of it."

"Well, not exactly my question. What _happened_ to him?"

"What happened?" Jabal made sure. I nodded.

"Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad happened."

* * *

 **A/N: So I** **was having some heart problems just at the beginning of the month and had to go through a series of those cardiac examinations and finally, after several of those, just when I thought I was _finally_ free of all that... I broke my arm -,- Life is just not fair, is it? Anyway, I couldn't write anything for three weeks, as I had my (right! - another proof that life is just terribly rude for me) arm in a cast.**

 **In other news, my school offered me an independent English study program, so, hopefully, I will learn much more and become better to deliver better stuff for you guys.** **Sadly, this also means additional classes in my timetable, which leads to less time for writing. But I hope it will be worth it.**

 **-"This is not a goodbye. It's just a... goodbye-until-next-time." Yeah.**

 **-Wild**


	10. Who's Stubborn?

**A/N: You'll have to forgive me for the chapter's title, I couldn't think of anything better.**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten  
Who's Stubborn?**

 _"Even those men you have sought to save have turned their back on you.  
Yet you fight. You resist. Why?"_

"I don't suppose we could talk?"

Yawning from tiredness I was feeling after tending to Arif for hours, I raised my eyes from my current work to look at Jabal. He seemed strangely serious and I couldn't help but yet again wonder if he had seen through my lies. What should I do then? And if he hadn't, wouldn't it be suspicious if I acted... well, suspicious? Really, I should rather pretend nothing was wrong, just in case everything was completely fine.

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged, getting up from my chair.

"Somewhere more private?"

I raised an eyebrow, but didn't object.

We walked out of the room and into the hall. I instinctively covered my eyes from the bright sun, but I was surprised to see the moon in its place. Maybe I had been working for a little longer than I thought...? I completely lost track of time.  
I slowly lowered my arm, pretending I was just inspecting my hidden blade at the time.

"So, uh, what did you want to talk about with me?" I asked in a whisper. From what I could tell, both Altaïr and Arif were asleep, so I didn't want to disturb them. I knew first-hand that at least one of them had well earned that rest.

Jabal crossed his arms on his chest with a cross expression on his face.

"It's about Altaïr." He said solemnly. I really wanted to just slap myself in the face at that moment. Really?! What was _wrong_ with them all?!

"...Yes?" I asked probably as cautiously as possible.

Jabal scratched the back of his neck.

"You're probably going to say that this is not my problem, but... I'm actually worried about him." Well, that makes the two of us. "He's in one of those moods of his. Doesn't sleep, doesn't eat..." He frowned. "You two haven't gotten involved into something strange again, have you?"

"What? No," I chuckled nervously. "We're, uh, totally fine... Yeah. Everything's alright."

He smiled lightly.

"Ismira, I can tell when you are lying." He said with an amused huff. I looked down.

"I don't..."

"I will not press on the matter," he ensured me, "but I just want you to remember that if you're in trouble, I'm always here."

I managed to smile. It was very nice of him to offer help, but I was afraid our problems were of a little different nature than Jabal thought.

"Thank you for the offer, but we're good." I said dismissively. "It's nothing we can't handle on our own."

"Well, if you say so..." Jabal said, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

Once he left the room, I sighed heavily, looking up at the night sky.

 _Nothing we can't handle._ If only that was true.

I hung my head and lay down on the only free spot on the floor, in the opposite corner than the one Altaïr occupied. I stole a look at him and shook my head after noticing that he was just staring up into the stars. Of course he wouldn't sleep.

"...Goodnight," I whispered.

He stirred, but instead of saying anything turned his back on me so that he was facing the wall. Only after a longer while I (barely) heard him answer.

"Goodnight."

=====oooOOO***OOOooo=====

I entered the room, rubbing my eyes as I still fought the last of sleepiness, to find the two Assassins playing some kind of a board game on the rafiq's desk.

"Good morning," I said, then smiled awkwardly. "Or is it noon?" I had no idea how long I had been sleeping, but the sun was up high, so I guessed longer than I would suspect.

"Good morning," Jabal said with the same friendly smile he always had. "Slept well?"

I smiled dreamily.

"Better than any night during the last two weeks," I admitted.

Only then I noticed that there was one person missing from the little group of people I expected to see.

"Where's Altaïr?"

Arif shrugged it off.

"He has gone to check the situation outside."

"Is it safe?" I asked with concern.

"For him, it is."

I yawned, then blushed with embarrassment as I covered my mouth.

"So, what are you doing?" I asked rather out of sheer politeness than actual curiosity.

They answered in the same time.

"Being bored."

"Playing chess."

"Mind if I joined you?" I asked. Not like there was anything else I could do.

"I am sorry, but this is a two-players-only game." Arif answered, making me frown lightly.

I walked over to the desk to get a better look at the game itself. The board was wooden, with dark and light checkerboard pattern on it. But what really caught my eye were the pawns - there were more of them in that game than any other I'd encountered - a few dozens for each player, as I guessed from the differing colorization. Whilst some of the figures were standing in their places on the board, the most were just put aside for some reason. I took one of them - a figure depicting a horse - and inspected it closely. It was very detailed, and very beautiful. I weighed it in my hand. It turned out much lighter than I expected it to be. I put it back on the desk, amazed.

"I've never seen anything like it before." I said in a half-voice. Arif raised an eyebrow on that.

"Do you want me to teach you?" He asked politely, even though I could see some skepticism in his expression. I nodded nevertheless and soon found myself flooded with tons of rules, basics, tactics and other things that made me realize that chess was a _really_ hard game. But from what I could gather, the main goal was to lead to a... checkmate, was it called? - a situation when the opponent's king cannot make a move. The king was the highest one. It also appeared every single figure had a different move pattern it had to follow. In one word, there were too many things for me to get in such a short amount of time. But it did seem like an interesting way to spend free time. I smiled despite my will - free time surely was something we had.

Arif and I played few warm-up rounds, mainly to get me around how everything worked in practice, but then we began to play for real and I found myself losing all the time. Even though I did manage to lead to a check several times, it never led to the end of the game. I realized that I was engaged in the game, though, as it proved itself to be a good mind challenge, which was something I liked.

"You're good at this," Jabal complimented after I worked out another defeat. I stared at him, mouth agape.

"But I keep losing all the time!" I protested. Arif smiled.

"It's not just about winning, you know." He said. "This game in particular can tell one much about their opponent."

"And with how good you are at this, I would say you have a strategical mind," Jabal praised. I blushed lightly. "Your moves, even though they may sometimes be somewhat hasty, are rather unpredictable."

"Unpredictable?" I asked. I only used the same strategy in game as I would use in real life - not hiding and lurking in the corners, but something more akin to a frontal attack. It didn't seem like it was strange or peculiar in any way.

"You barely think like an Assassin," Arif explained. I frowned.

"And how is that bad?" I asked, trying to sound skeptical, even though in reality I was just confused.

"It isn't," Jabal said. "It just makes you a batter player. With a mind like this, you should be a tactician."

"But I _am_ ," I said mechanically, even before I realized I was saying anything. "I mean, I _was_."

I frowned. I was uncomfortable with my subconsciousness taking over from time to time. I just hoped it wouldn't become a habit of mine.

"Oh." Jabal's eyes widened as though he had realized something. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I knew you don't like to talk about it. I... shouldn't have mentioned the subject."

"No harm done," I dismissed with a smile, even though inside I was boiling as another unanswered question came up.

 _What is it that I don't like to talk about?_

Before I managed to dwell on that, though, my train of thought was stopped by the arrival of Altaïr, who entered the Bureau through the roof entrance.

Even before we asked the question, he already answered it.

"It's clear," he announced with a smirk.

"Clear?" The rest of us asked in unison, what made me crack a smile. "Does this mean we're free to go?" I added, surprised as I was still taking in the sudden change in our situation.

Jabal and Altaïr exchanged looks, which made me slightly irritated as I realized they have been discussing something important without me again.

"Yes," Altaïr said, but, of course, had to add "but there's one more thing I want you to do before we go."

I did my best not to roll my eyes.

"We've been talking about you," Jabal said as he led me to another room, leaving Altaïr with Arif, who seemed thrilled at the opportunity to talk with him. As me and the rafiq entered the hallway, I realized that the Assassin Bureau was a much more complex facility than it seemed. I had seen at least three rooms already, and who knew how many more were there? It seemed mysteries were literally sprouting everywhere I went. "And Altaïr," Jabal looked back, as if fearing the Assassin in question would hear him, "expressed concern at you being rather defenseless in combat." This was an euphemism, but one I preferred to hear rather than what it meant. I looked down. Was it just me or the blade on my forearm suddenly felt heavier? "I know this isn't the kind of sword you are used to wielding," Jabal noticed as he looked at my weapon. I followed his gaze, astonished. I knew something was off when I didn't want to use it in combat, but I assumed it was because it was in my nature to prefer ranged weapons. Now that I considered the option of having another type of a sword, it all made sense: the way I wanted to strike, vertically downright, and how I was unable to grab the handle comfortably with two hands. I needed a bigger weapon. "But these are, unfortunately, the only ones we have." Jabal seemed to think about something for a while, before his face lit up and I was sure he just came up with an idea. "But I can make the combat easier for you with something else."

I couldn't help my own curiosity.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Follow me," he simply said and led me to another room which, I realized, had to be the armory. I was actually surprised at how clean and organized it was, but considering Jabal's OCD, it was predictable he would tide all the space he had. I looked from one place to another, my eyes unable to stay in one spot as I wanted to take it all in at once. There were so many weapons in the room that I suspected even Altaïr would be amazed. Well, no. Perhaps not Altaïr, but an average Assassin - yes.

"These," Jabal gestured to one of the first things that caught my eye; a leather belt clearly designed to carry a larger amount of ammunition, "are the standard Assassin throwing knives. Cliché? Expected? Maybe. But not any less efficient." I was almost sure I could recall Altaïr using those at least once.

I didn't answer, so he decided this was a dismissal and moved on to the next weapon.

"This is a poison dart gun," he took the little object into his hands. It resembled a crossbow, which was a good association. "As the name surely speaks for itself, it shoots poisoned darts." He demonstrated the usage on the nearest wall. "Not enough to kill, but it's almost sure to drive one berserk. I wouldn't advise using those for distant targets, though. The aiming system isn't fully nuanced yet."

"Interesting," I said quietly as I watched Jabal put the gun back on its place on the table. I had never seen, yet alone heard about, such weapon.

"A crossbow," the rafiq introduced the already familiar mechanism, "an assassin's weapon; silent and deadly..." I cut him off.

"I thought the Crusaders invented those," I noticed.

"And I never neglected that. Is it bad using the enemy's weapon?"

"No, but you just said that..." I drifted off. Assassin, assassin. Was there a difference? I had never noticed it before, but maybe it existed. I couldn't put my finger on it. Jabal probably noticed I was having a problem with recognizing whether the word 'assassin' was a proper noun or not as he smiled lightly.

"I think of it as a stupid name too," he comforted me. "It's usually the context that tells you whether it's Assassin or assassin." I still couldn't sense the difference. "Oh well... Um, anyway, here we have a slingshot," he continued on as he took another weapon in his hands.

"That's a child's toy," I said with a smirk.

"You may think that," Jabal agreed, "but you cannot imagine how deadly it can be when wielded by an experienced warrior. For example, if I gave it to Altaïr, I'm almost sure he would shoot his way through a whole squad."

"I would love to see that," I stated with a smile.

Somehow, the thought of Altaïr fighting off a bunch of people with a slingshot appeared especially hilarious to me.

"Would be quite the show, eh?" Jabal smiled too.

"It would most certainly be."

"Oh well, I guess I should leave you with a choice now. There's plenty of supporting weapons in this room, so you are free to take a look at whatever appears interesting to you. I will be right here, if you have any questions for me." He turned his attention to a shelf with various bottles on it. Considering how close to the poison dart gun it was placed, I decided I didn't want to know what was inside.

I walked over to another table. Knives, daggers, other various bodkins. Nothing useful for me. I was aware Altaïr knew how to fight with a knife, but I wouldn't dare asking him to teach me. By the wall I found a stand for long weapons. Spears, lances, halberds, axes, that kind of things, so not what I wanted. I took a bow in my hands and tried it out. I didn't have an arrow; in fact, I hadn't seen one in the whole room, but I didn't need to shoot to sense this wasn't it. I looked at the crossbow which Jabal showed me before. It was a very simple one, but I suspected it wouldn't do a worse job than the best bow.

I walked over to the rafiq, weapon in my hands.

"May I take this?" I asked. Jabal took a took at it.

"A crossbow? Right." He shook his head. "I have no idea what happened to your old one, but if you don't have it anymore, you are free to take this one." I nodded, mentally noting to later check on my equipment.

"Thank you for everything," I said gratefully.

"It's nothing," Jabal dismissed with a smile. "I'm always happy to help out the two of you."

Yet again someone categorized me and Altaïr as one, but this time I didn't mind, because it was said in a friendly way and gave me a nice feeling of belonging.

"The feeling is mutual," I declared honestly.

=====oooOOO***OOOooo=====

"So, what now?"

I pulled on the leather belt, straightening the saddle on Spirit's back. The animal neighed quietly, but didn't show any signs of discomfort otherwise, so I didn't adjust it further.

"Huh?" I asked, strapping my saddlebags to the saddle.

"What are you going to do now?" Altaïr precised as he jumped onto his horse. I raised my head up high to look at him.

"I don't know," I said, using a hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun. Metal shined bright as it reflected the rays of light towards my face. "It depends on... stuff."

He looked down at me. I was standing on the ground, while he was sitting astride his horse. It was giving a fake feeling of superiority in our relationship, which I didn't like.

"Like what?"

I sighed, ungracefully climbing onto Spirit's back.

"Like where you're headed now," I answered.

Altaïr started into the distance.

"I thought about going back to Masyaf," he pondered, "but now I'm not so sure what I should do, especially considering some recent... developments."

There was something in his tone that made me feel uneasy.

"...Are you alright?" I asked carefully.

He looked me in the eyes and I was utterly surprised when I saw the fear inside of his. Altaïr was... afraid. What was he afraid of?

"I don't know what to do," he said quietly and I realized that thought filled him with fear.

Altaïr was lost. As I assumed, he had never been in similar situations before, so it was a new feeling for him and he was having trouble dealing with it.

"I just feel that whatever I choose, I will not make the right choice," he added mournfully.

"No one likes making decisions," I told him comfortingly. "But sometimes you have to." He looked away, shaking his head. "I know this is not what you want to hear right now, but at least listen." I looked him deep into the eyes. "The ability to choose, to be able to... decide your fate... It's an unbelievable bliss."

"I know you are trying to help, but... It doesn't work."

I sighed heavily.

"At least you're honest." I smiled unconvincingly. Altaïr didn't smile back. I put my hands up. "Alright, you don't have to make the decision right now." He looked grim. "...Do you?"

He didn't reply.

"If this is going to make your choice easier, I'm going to Jerusalem," I declared. I didn't want to make that decision yet, but I saw the urgency of keeping Altaïr sane, so I made a haste move, but one that I had considered the most. He still didn't seem convinced, so I decided he needed some help in his decision. "You could go with me." No reply. Biting my lip, I reached for the last argument, the one I didn't want to use at all. "Who's your next target?"

Altaïr pulled out his list and gave it a short glance.

"Majd Addin," he read aloud.

I nodded.

"The city regent of Jerusalem," I summed up. I didn't even bother myself with thinking how did I know that anymore. "Then what's the problem? You could go with me for now."

He hesitated, looking at the signpost unsurely. Left to Jerusalem, right to Damascus. For me, the choice was simple. For Altaïr, it apparently wasn't.

"But Masyaf..." He tried to reason with something, but realized it made no sense.

"I will not advise you to do anything." I said. "By all means, take your time. Just... do what think is best."

He stood firm, eyes locked on the sign, deep in thought. From what I could tell, he was standing before a hard choice and wasn't sure what to do, so I shouldn't exactly rush him. That was something he needed to do on his own.

"I will follow you to the Holy City," he finally said, the ease in his eyes being the only sign of how relieved he was to have that burden finally taken off his shoulders. I actually understood him - even if what he chose was wrong, he didn't have to _choose_ anymore. And _that_... That was what caused relief.

"Don't worry. Even if you change your mind, you can always turn back, can't you?" I comforted him.

"Technically, yes." He sighed, looking at the road ahead. "Technically."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the time it took, but I got hooked into Syndicate and totally forgot about any duties I had ;P Oh well, I guess it's yet another chapter in Acre, so hehe. Not so sure why, but it just feels like leaving them in that city for longer.**

 **Anyway, just in case I don't get on schedule with another chapter before Christmas (which probably will happen), I will wish you all a merry Christmas now. And a happy new year just as a precaution.**


	11. Of Days Good and Bad

**Chapter Eleven  
** **Of Days Good and Bad**

 _"Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody  
dies at all. Now and then, __every once in a very long while, every day in  
a million days, when the wind stands fair, everybody lives."_

"Oh for God's sake!" I complained, annoyed enough to stand up.

"Shh!" I was silenced by Faris, who was crouched by my side. I bit my lip. I knew that discretion was important for our mission, but I just couldn't stand it anymore. We were on a rooftop above a small square. Execution. I hated it. I hated every single part of me that hated what was happening, too, since I should have been used to such things. I had no idea why it bothered me so much: as an Assassin, I shouldn't really be so sensitive. But this was an execution, it was fair - these people were criminals! Well, maybe except for the Assassin... And it was fair except for the fact that the executioner was Altaïr's next target.

"Now, jump! Jump!" The order was quick and sudden, and so were our movements as we abandoned our post on the rooftop and launched ourselves onto the street below.

...How exactly had I gotten myself into this situation?

Well, it was obvious: we reached Jerusalem without any major casualties (only had to get into a fight once) and it turned out that Altaïr's target, Majd Addin, was actually attending a public execution later that day, which made it a practically perfect opportunity for Altaïr himself, and a good one for Malik and his men (I, for some reason, had been counted into that group) to rescue an Assassin who was one of the sentenced criminals. Nothing easier, huh? We were all perfectly trained killers, weren't we? What could possibly go wrong?

Nothing.

Thank God, just this once nothing went wrong. I broke a few pots laying around in hope to create something akin to a smoke cover, but it turned out that there was no need for such things: the crowd, terrified by our sudden appearance turned into enough of a distraction for the guards. All we had to do was grab the unconscious Assassin and get out of there, leaving Altaïr to do his job. I locked eyes with him in the heat of the battle (it wasn't that much of a battle, really. More like pure chaos. And I hadn't even killed anyone.) and he nodded at me without a word. I understood the message clearly: _go and don't worry about me. I'll be fine._

I bit my lip.

 _Just be careful,_ I thought and turned to Faris.

"Alright, let's get a move on!" I shouted and there was something in my voice that made the other three Assassins comply without a word of protest. _Great. Now I can command people. I have found a great power within myself._

"Unto the roof!" Someone's voice called out, but I couldn't recognise who it was exactly. There were shouts and running suddenly, and the guards were soon in pursuit of us. And all I could do was follow the orders.

=ooO*Ooo=

"You've done well. I'm surprised," Malik praised once we had returned. It didn't come as much of a surprise that Altaïr had already got there and was waiting for our return. I understood that he didn't want to be left alone with the dai, which was fairly understandable, especially considering the situation between them. Still, even I could notice that their relationship was becoming less intense than before. Time's the best doctor, I reckon. But not even time can heal all hurts. They needed to talk, these two. I had to arrange something. I had to fix their friendship, after all. It was my goal. "Oh, and Altaïr?" Malik called out when we were exiting the room. "Could we talk in private?" I raised an eyebrow at that, pleasantly surprised. Is today the good day, then? I thought. That kind of day when all my problems solve themselves on their own, and even trouble stays at the minimum?

What wouldn't I give for a day like that.

"Thanks for the help," Faris nodded at me.

"Yeah," I answered absent-mindedly, still not sure whether I was set on eavesdropping on Malik and Altaïr or running away from the Bureau just for the sake of it. I liked the idea.

I grabbed my bag and searched it with a wide smile on my face. There. Normal clothes!

"I'll be back before dusk!" I called out, already on my way out through the roof entrance. Oh, amazing. The feeling of wind on my face, my hair swept to the back. Running! Running was extremely good. Running on the rooftops was an _experience_. I swiftly jumped down onto a smaller building, raising a cloud of dust as I fell. Then, I dropped onto the ground. I quickly glanced round. It was some abandoned courtyard or a rarely used alley - either way, it was empty and mostly dark, so that's why I changed there. It was refreshing to have a break from the same clothes I had been wearing for the last two weeks or so.

I gave a contented sigh as I walked out onto the main street and for once could actually blend in with the crowd. I looked around in wonder. Oh, I loved that city! People, buildings! Life! Much better than the depressing greyness of Acre, a million times more interesting than the repetitiveness of Damascus, and still so much more fascinating than the great outdoors. This was where I belonged, where I wanted to be. Jerusalem. Sure, Masyaf _was_ home, but even the place where I lived could not rival the city I loved.

I stopped. Someone mumbled something angrily as they walked into me, but I didn't react. My mind was still joining the simple facts.

Masyaf was home. Altaïr had wanted to go there. I had stopped him.

...I was an idiot.

Really! The most plausible way to regain my memories was to visit the place where I lived. It just seemed to make so much sense that I found myself wondering why exactly had I chosen Jerusalem over Masyaf when it was time to decide our destination.

I answered myself almost immediately: because _my_ problems may not have been the most serious. Because I chose Malik and Altaïr over myself. I had decided to help those two - or at least one of them, if the circumstances didn't allow me - and that was the decision I wanted to cling on to.

I walked about for a few more hours - or at least, _I_ thought it was hours - but I didn't really see the point anymore. Something inside of me was desperate to get back to the Assassin Bureau, to put my mind and heart into setting things right, but for some reason I kept on walking. I could feel that I was looking for something: quite in the same way I could feel it when, after waking up without my memories, I knew I had to find Altaïr. I had the very same feeling now. There was something important here, in Jerusalem, something I had right under my nose.

I looked up at the massive building on my right. The Temple of Solomon. So this was the place of Altaïr's downfall. Altaïr and Kadar's failed mission... Or had it been Kadar and Malik? So many different versions of the same story... I was getting lost in it. Who was lying and who was telling the truth? Or what if nobody was right? Who should I trust? I knew Altaïr better, but I still felt that I didn't quite _know_ him, not really, and Malik was just an acquaintance. Not even a friendly acquaintance, just someone I knew who didn't want to kill me. We were far from being best friends... I found myself grinning. And maybe _that_ was the problem - we weren't best friends.

 _Alright then._ I took the turn which would lead me towards the Assassin Bureau. Now I knew what I was going to do.

Time to use my people skills.

It took me a while to get where I had wanted to get and it had already gone dark by the time I identified the correct building. It took me another ten minutes to wait for an appropriate moment to climb onto the roof without raising too much suspicion. I tried silently slipping into the Bureau, but I had to face the fact that I was no Altaïr and, even though the carpet muted most of it, I landed with a silent thud.

"Close the door behind you." Malik's voice cut through the air with surprising precision: it wasn't a whisper by any means, but it was also quiet enough not to wake the sleeping Altaïr. It was as though he had perfectly calculated the exact volume he needed to retain in order to communicate this late into the night.

At the beginning, I didn't know what he meant, because there was no door in the room _I_ had entered and for a moment I thought that maybe he wasn't talking to me, but it was a silly thought because I was obviously the only person other than him who was in the Bureau, and he must have meant the roof entrance.

"...How?" I whispered back. I had honestly no idea how it was supposed to work. I heard him sigh, and soon enough he was by my side, carefully stepping over Altaïr's sleeping silhouette. (Wow, he was asleep. I had had no idea he was capable of that.)

"You know you're supposed to be helping here, not cause more trouble?"

I was offended. But then again, I supposed this was Malik's usual demeanour towards everyone. _Especially Altaïr_ , I added silently. But _then_ again, I couldn't really blame him for that. In his place, I would probably never forgive the man - he was at least _trying._ I wondered if they had been friends before. It was possible. Not very likely, but still possible. It would certainly explain why Malik put so much effort into trying to forget the hurt Altaïr had caused him. Not entirely successfully, but he was trying.

"Just go to sleep," Malik mumbled and, as I looked up, I noticed that the roof entrance was now sealed. I must have been too caught up in my thoughts to notice when it happened. Pity, I was kind of curious as to how it worked.

"What about you?" I asked quietly. He just gave me one of his most intimidating glares.

"Just. Go to sleep." He repeated, though this time I felt more inclined to obey. I shuddered. When he wanted, he could be really demanding. I was afraid to even wonder what it was like to get on his bad side.

All the more the reason to be friends with him.

=ooO*Ooo=

I threw the sack onto Snowfire's back and looked up at Altaïr.

"You alright with this?" I asked.

He shrugged. I supposed that to him, it didn't make that much of a difference. I tried not to let it show just how much the idea depressed me.

"It's your life, after all. I can't tell you what to do."

I nodded.

"Still, it's mostly for Malik's sake. I really don't think he's coping as well as he lets on." I said. Altaïr's expression strongly suggested that he didn't understand why I felt the need to explain myself for my decisions.

"You're completely sure about your decisions, then," he said. I could see that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. I could also see that it wasn't a question, but I answered anyway.

"No worries." I flashed my most convincing grin at him. "I'm staying."

He shook his head with a heavy sigh, but I couldn't really understand what made him react that way or what could that reaction mean. He swiftly jumped onto the horse's back and grabbed the reins. The animal neighed quietly.

"Then I'll see you around somewhere," he summed up and just rode off without waiting for me to answer.

Yeah, somewhere.

"Come on-" I began, but looked to my side and noticed the emptiness. _Fantastic. Now I'm really alone_. It was massively depressing. Oh, that's just so me: barely a minute gone by and I'm already having second thoughts about my decision.

I shook my head and turned back towards Jerusalem, trying to look at the city with a critical eye. For now, this was going to be my home.

In all honesty, it made my heart leap.

* * *

 **A/N: Play Fallout. If you ever have writer's block, play Fallout. Like, really. Instead of accusing me of not posting anything for years, go and play Fallout *nervous laugh***

 **Seriously though, THANK GOD FOR THE FALLOUT FRANCHISE! It's like the best thing for writer's block. The story is so interesting and the amount and complexity of side quests makes great material for a fanfic. And I know, I know - I haven't updated this story for what is almost two years by now. And I have a good explanation too. One thing you've got to know about me: I don't abandon fanfictions. That's why this one was, as you may have noticed, never labelled as cancelled, instead just 'on hiatus'. That's the state of most of my fics right now.**

 **As to why I haven't updated for such a long time, I've made what may have been the biggest mistake of my life: I watched an episode of Doctor Who. Then I watched two episodes. Then two seasons. Then twenty seasons... It kind of just went on. Anyway, don't ever watch it, it's highly addictive. And has over 30 seasons.**

 **And as I'm a massive whovian now, obviously, fifteen or so Doctor Who fanfics have sprouted for a few days each during my break from FF, but only one actually went somewhere, so yeah. I hope I'll be able to focus on _this_ and finish it before I move on to _that_.**

 **Moral of the story: writer's block? Play Fallout. Bored? Watch Doctor Who.  
** **-Wild**


End file.
